Hand of Fate
by Creative-Insanity
Summary: Sequel to A Girl Called Destiny. Cross a vampire with an angel and what do you get? One runaway angel and three angelvamp hybrids. Destiny's been on the run from Dracula for years, but when another angel enters the picture, it may not stay that way...
1. Discovered

Chapter 1: Discovered

AN: ACK! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I know I've been gone a while, but please don't kill meeee! (If you do that, then you don't get any more stories) Heehee. Leverage. Isn't it a wonderful thing? Anyway, this is the sequel to A Girl Called Destiny, and it follows the adventures of Destiny and her kids, now that they've returned to the east (see epilogue of the other story). Plus another new character that I don't really feel like telling you about right now, 'cause that would ruin all the fun, now wouldn't it? Anywho, on with the chapter.

Destiny sighed, apprehensive, as she looked out the window as the growing clouds that marred the blue sky, or what she could see of it through the trees that surrounded her small house in Ryszarda. A storm was coming, a strong one by the looks of it, and her children had not come in yet. The three of them outside and had only promised to be back before dark. She sighed again, worried and deep in thought about the past.

You see, Destiny was no ordinary woman. Though she was twenty-five, she appeared not a day older than eighteen, something that greatly puzzled the nosier inhabitants of the town. She was exceedingly grateful for the privacy that the surrounding trees granted her. She and her children had moved from Dubravka three years ago, and even then they had only been in that town for four years, an oddity in a world where most people lived in one town, city, or village all their lives.

But then again, much was odd about the Wiebke family. Most of it stemmed from the fact that Destiny was immortal, an angel, and that her children's father had been Dracula, a powerful vampire. She had never told her children who their father was, for fear that at their young age they would let something slip in conversation and Dracula would be able to track her down. She had been on the run from him for a little over seven years, from the time just before her children were born.

There were three of them: Darryl, the eldest, Rinska, and Kassia, the youngest. All three had vampire fangs, a trait from their father, and needed blood to survive, though not as often as a regular vampire, thanks in part to her blood. Their wings were a blend of both parents. Kassia's were white and feathery, purely angel. Darryl's were black and bat-like, purely vampiric. And Rinksa's were black and feathery, a blend of both. Darryl and Kassia both had their father's black hair, but with a streak of their mother's white near the front. Rinksa's was white with a black streak. She was also the only one who had inherited her father's dark eyes; the others possessed their mother's icy blue.

Destiny tucked a piece of her long hair behind her ear. She was debating about whether or not to go out and look for her children. Then again, there was little in the woods by way of creatures that would actually bother them. The main inhabitants were squirrels and other small animals. They also knew the woods better than she did. She decided against it. They knew how to take care of themselves.

"C'mon," pleaded Rinska. Kassia shook her head. "Don't be such a baby. Please? We won't be in there long."

"Mother doesn't want us in the tavern," said Kassia primly. She didn't like the tavern anyway. It was dark and noisy and crowded.

"I'll go," Darryl volunteered, with a look of exasperation aimed at his youngest sister. She was just scared, he knew, but Rinska wasn't likely to have any sympathy for what she viewed as babyish behavior.

"Kassia, why don't you go and watch the bakers? We'll meet you there in a little bit." Kassia looked relieved and ran off. Rinska smiled at her brother and together they headed towards the town's tavern. It _was_ dark, crowded, and noisy, but neither of them minded much. They were used to it, having snuck in here often enough.

Being a cold, dreary, cloudy winter day, the tavern was well populated and nobody noticed the addition of the two small children, who snuck to a back table and settled down to listen to the conversations around them. It was by far the best way to find out what was going on in town, and drink-loosened tongues often talked more than was wise, allowing Rinska and Darryl in on more private information they would never have known otherwise.

Rinska was looking around, listening for an interesting conversation, when she spotted a stranger sitting by himself at a dark table in the corner, without a drink. She peered at him, trying to get a good look. He was long in torso, so he was probably tall, and pale, so he was probably rich too. Only people who could afford to hire servants to work outside for them did not have skin roughened and tanned by the weather. He even looked lordly, with solemn grey eyes and shoulder length dark hair. As if he sensed her gaze on him, he turned, fixing her with a piercing stare. Rinska quickly looked away.

Darryl had found a group of men that were talking about his mother, not a rather uncommon occurrence, since she was unmarried with children and lived in solitude.

"'s just plain unnatural," one of the men was saying. "Queer like, with that white hair, her not even being thirty yet."

"How d'you know that?" asked another man.

"Simple. She looks too young," replied the first man.

"But she can't be that young, I mean, with three kids and all."

Rinska had been listening too and noticed that she and Darryl weren't the only ones interested in the conversation. The man in the corner was listening too, and appeared a little too interested for Rinska's peace of mind. Suddenly, he looked at her again.

"Darryl?" She poked her brother in the side.

"What?"

"I think we'd better go."

The look on her face brooked no argument, and so they slide out of their chairs and left for home, stopping on the way to pick up Kassia. They walked at a normal pace, until they reached the beginning of the woods that led to their house. Rinska began to walk a little faster, looking back over her shoulder to make sure they were not being followed. She just couldn't shake the feeling.

"Hey, wait!" Kassia's call made her realize that she was now going at a jog. Rinska looked up at the darkening clouds that loomed menacingly overhead. A clap of thunder startled her into a sprint that lasted all the way until she was safe inside her own front door. It was as if she was trying to outrun the strange man's stare. Something was just not right about him. Rinska couldn't explain how she knew. She just knew.

"Rinska? Where are your brother and sister?" her mother asked from the kitchen.

"They're coming," she replied, slowly getting her breath back to normal. And indeed, at that very moment, Darryl and Kassia entered, more normally paced.

"Dinner'll be ready in fifteen minutes," their mother said. Kassia went to go help and Darryl grabbed Rinska by the arm, pulling her into the privacy of his room.

"What was that all about?" he demanded, very confused by her behavior. "Why were you running?" Rinska explained about the man in the tavern and her bad feeling about him. Darryl looked a bit worried, but whatever he was going to say was forestalled by their mother calling them to the table.

Destiny placed the plates of food on the table, sending a concerned glance at Rinska. Her daughter had come back breathless and pale, and it was obvious that something was bothering her. But when questioned about it, Rinska said it was nothing. Destiny, however, wasn't buying it. Rinska did not scare easily and Destiny had been around too many supernatural things to not be suspicious about anything abnormal.

Dinner was going as usual until there came a quiet but firm knock at the door. Destiny motioned for her children to stay put and keep eating while she went to answer it. Rinska and Darryl looked at each other, then got up and quietly peered around the corner, bringing the front door into view. Destiny opened the door to reveal a tall, pale man with dark hair and grey eyes. Rinska's eyes widened. The man from the tavern must have followed them home.

Destiny's eyes also widened and she paled, though her face remained impassive. For she recognized the man for what he was: a vampire. So one of Dracula's minions had found them at last. She gave a small sigh. It was bound to happen sometime. And now it had.

"May I help you sir?" she asked pleasantly. The vampire raised an eyebrow.

"Come now Destiny," he said reprovingly. Destiny flinched at the sound of her name. "We both know that you know what I am and why I'm here."

Destiny pursed her lips. "Yes, that may be, but I do not know who I'm talking to."

"Aymerick Forlong," he said with a bow, mocking her with his eyes.

"Then I want you to leave, Aymerick Forlong," she said curtly, knowing even as she said it that it was pointless. He would not turn from his mission so easily.

"I think not," he replied blandly. Destiny's mind was racing. She didn't want to have this break out into a fight, especially in front of her children, but keeping him talking wasn't accomplishing anything in the slightest. Indeed, Aymerick was becoming impatient with her and impatient vampires were more apt to do something rash or stupid, by her reckoning.

Well, she also excelled in being rash and/or foolhardy, so she quickly slammed the door in his face and bolted it. For all she knew he was sending a mental call to reinforcements, or worse, Dracula himself.

"Rinska, Darryl, Kassia!" she yelled. All three heads popped out of the kitchen. "Get into Darryl's room. Now!" The three of them hastened to do as she said. Their mother never yelled so when she did, they knew it was serious.

Destiny sprinted to her own room, unlocking the cabinet where she kept her silver knives and daggers, stakes, and holy water. She grabbed two daggers, two stakes, and a bottle of holy water, even as she heard the front door being smashed in. She ignored the fearful pounding of her heart and went out to face Aymerick. He grinned when he saw the daggers in her hands.

"Do you honestly think you can kill me?" he asked scathingly. Switching his tone of voice, he said, "You know my orders are to bring you alive. I don't want to have to hurt you in order to do that."

"Don't trouble your tender heart over me," replied Destiny in a biting tone. She launched herself at Aymerick, daggers upraised. She scored several quick hits, but then Aymerick was on his guard against her, wary of her speed. Destiny smiled grimly at her adversary. The last time she'd been in a knife fight, she'd been pregnant and had nearly died of blood posioning afterwards. Today, though, she was not so encumbered.

Kassia listened to the sounds of the fight with wide, frightened eyes. Rinska and Darryl listened too, both concerned for the safety of their mother. None of them had known that she could fight. Rinska heartily wished she hadn't been correct in her bad feeling about the man. Minutes seemed like hours to them and they jumped at the occasional crash that rose above the clang of steel against silver.

Destiny picked herself up off the floor, for the second time. Aymerick was stronger than she had anticipated and though he was wounded in several places, he appeared unfazed. She was bleeding from a cut to the temple and a gash on her arm, as well as having quite a few developing bruises. Plus, the fight had been going on for some fifteen minutes, which doesn't seem like a terribly long time to you, I'm sure, but it's more than enough time to tire someone out. Someone like Destiny, to be exact. She realized that she had to end this fight soon or she would definitely lose. And that would not have a good outcome.

"I will ask you one last time to give this up," said Aymerick evenly, as if he was only proposing that they take a walk, not that she willingly hand over herself and her children.

"I think not," replied Destiny coolly. She backed up and purposely tripped over the hem of her skirts. As she fell, she dropped her daggers and drew out her stakes, slipping them up her sleeves to hide them.

Aymerick took the bait, hook, line, and sinker. Later, Destiny would come to the conclusion that he just wanted to stop the fight as soon as he could and finish his mission, causing his common sense to momentarily flee. It would prove to be his undoing. As he closed the distance between them, presumably to knock her unconscious, Destiny sprang up, plunging one of the stakes into his undead heart. Aymerick had just enough time to look at her in shock before he dissolved into dust.

Destiny plopped down on the floor with a huge sigh of relief. As if that was a cue, her children came out from Darryl's room, moving cautiously in case they had misjudged the situation.

"It's okay," she told them wearily, holding out her arms and gathering them to her. "He's gone now. He can't do anything anymore," she reassured them gently. She had to appear calm for their sakes, but inside Destiny was scared. They would have to move somewhere else, and move fast if they didn't want to get caught. It was a journey she was loath to make, though. Out on the open road they would be vulnerable. But she'd just have to take the chance. They couldn't stay here anymore.

AN: review, or I don't post the next chapter and I also don't work on the third chapter. (threats make the world go 'round. So do reviews. And cookies.) Flames will be used to roast marshmallows.


	2. Van Helsing

Chapter 2: Van Helsing

AN: Hmm, the chapters in this story seem to be longer than in my first. Oh well, guess that's just better for you guys. This chappie and the next one are a tad slow, because of who shows up in this chapter. There's some stuff he needs to be filled in on and if you're reading this story without reading the prequel (naughty you) then it's info you'll need to understand the story somewhat. But I suggest, for your sake, that you read A Girl Called Destiny first, or you'll get really confused in later chapters, cause I'm NOT explaining everything that happened just because you're too lazy to read the first installment.

Anywho, I'm really happy about the response I got to the first chapter. Here's my posting schedule: Basically, when I complete a chapter, I'll post the chapter before it. say I have chapter three written. When I complete chapter four, I'll post chapter three. That way I'll always have a chappie on hand in case of severe writer's block and you guys won't have to wait a month for the next installment. Sound good? Great.

BTW: there will be absolutely NO Van Helsing/Destiny pairing in my story. shudder I couldn't stand that. No. She's staying with Drac. Period.

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Three years later……

It was noon in Pelagia, a very uneventful noon as the villagers went about their daily lives. That is, until a darkly colored stranger wearing all black arrived, leading a black horse that was favoring its front right hoof. His appearance automatically attracted the attention of the villagers, who did not see many strangers.

Van Helsing paid little attention to the stares of the people. He was used to it by now. He headed for the stables of the town's inn to see if they could do something about his horse's hoof. Otherwise he would have to either buy a new one or wait until the hoof healed. That would put him behind in his journey to Rome, even though they were not expecting him and so he had no real set date for arrival.

Rinska peeped over a vegetable wagon at the stranger. Just like with the vampire three years ago, she had the sense that this man was more than he appeared to be: a scruffy-looking traveler on a long journey. She should probably tell her mother. With a quick word to Darryl and Kassia, she set off along the seaside path that led to their house.

Destiny was busy cutting and drying herbs when Rinska popped up beside her. She looked at her daughter. "Yes?"

"Um, just thought you should know that there's a stranger in the village."  
Destiny frowned, putting down the feverfew that was in her hands. "And why should this be significant?" she asked, even though she always checked out strangers when they arrived, to make sure that they were not vampires.

"Well," Rinska was searching for a reason. "He's carrying some weapons that I could see and I think there's more to him than meets the eye? That's a reason." Destiny laughed.

"Very well then," she said. "Go back to your brother and sister now. I'll be along in a minute." She could never seem to get over the sadness that accompanied her visits to the village. Because of her odd appearance and healing capabilities, the villagers were half awed/half frightened of her. They shied away from her wherever she went, and it was a very lonely way to live.

"Mother's coming," Rinska told her siblings when she got back. "Where is he?"

"Still in the stables," Darryl answered. Kassia nodded in affirmation. They looked towards the seaside path, towards their home, and saw the pale figure of their mother coming into view. However, they were not the only ones to notice.

"She's coming," whispered one woman to her friend.

"What is She doing here?" asked an old man in a hushed whisper. The man sitting beside him said, "Isn't that always what She does when there's a newcomer? She's here to 'inspect' him, I'll wager."

The whispers reached the stable-hand that was examining Van Helsing's horse. Van Helsing noticed shrewdly that though the man kept to his work, he was a little pale and his eyes were rounder than normal.

"Is something the matter?" Van Helsing asked him. The man, whose name was Korvan, looked up.

"Well sir, it's just that…well…She's come to town, just now." Van Helsing frowned, catching the slight emphasis on _She_.

"And who exactly is this 'She'?"

The man looked furtively to either side of him. "Well, it's like this sir. Three years ago this girl shows up, an odd little thing, with three kids along with her. Her kids, and She not looking older than eighteen. Nor did She have a man with her. Just her and the kids. Well, She put up at the inn for a while, having no home to go to, but the strangest thing happened. The landlady's lad broke his arm and She healed it, right then and there! No splint, no bandages, just took the boy into a room and when they came out, his arm was completely healed."

The man looked kind of scared. "I don't know what kind of witchcraft that is, sir, but we allow her to stay because She's downright useful if you're hurt or sick. That's about it."

Van Helsing turned away and walked out of the stables, to meet whoever this 'She' was. Even hearing Korvan's tale had not prepared him for his first look at her. Indeed, she looked no older than eighteen, short and slightly build, wearing a simple blue dress, and her white hair was long and flowing free, not bound like women's hair usually was. Her icy blue eyes were fixed on him with a look that seemed to see right through him. She took a step forward.

"Welcome, stranger, to Pelagia," she said in a soft but strong voice. "I am Destiny, the town's healer. Now sir, will you please tell me your name?" She phrased it so that it was not a question.

"My name is Van Helsing," he said, and for once people didn't gasp or draw back in fear.

Destiny tilted her head to the side, studying Van Helsing through slightly narrowed eyes. An awkward silence hung in the air between them, with the villagers looking on from a distance. Then Destiny smiled.

"Then come with me, Mr. Van Helsing. You need not stay at the inn, and I wish to speak to you about a few things. Your belongings will be brought up. Darryl, Rinska, Kassia," she called to people Van Helsing couldn't see. Three ten-year-olds ran out from behind a wagon and looked at her.

"Go get Mr. Van Helsing's things and bring them to the house. Go on now," she shooed them away and they hurried off on their errand. Destiny turned and started towards the seaside path. She motioned for Van Helsing to follow her. He did. Once they were inside the door, Destiny turned to him.

"So you're destined for…where? Rome?" He blinked in surprise.

"Why would my destination matter to you?" he asked cautiously. Destiny smiled mischievously and there was an impish twinkle in her eyes. For the first time, she looked like a teenager and not someone who had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. He wondered at the sadness.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm nosy, but let's just say…I'm curious." She cocked her head up to look at him and poked him in the chest. "And you, buddy, look like you're headed for the Knights of the Holy Order."

"I don't recall saying that." Van Helsing's tone was guarded. He didn't like that her apparent 'guesses' were right on the money. Destiny shrugged, and grinned again.

"You didn't have to. I've met some hunters from the Holy Order before. You have the same look and air about you. Plus, you've probably got, like they did, a whole armory of weapons on your person. But don't worry," she reassured him, "Your business is your own."

At that moment, the front door banged open, whacking Van Helsing in the back. Destiny's children came in, lugging his travel bags behind them.

"Sorry about that," said Destiny, closing the door again. Van Helsing rubbed the back of his head.

"It's okay," he said. She smiled at this, then turned to her children, who were waiting patiently for further instructions.

"Take Mr. Van Hels–"

"Just 'Van Helsing', please."

"Okay. Take Van Helsing's things to the back guestroom."

As one they nodded and dragged his things off. Destiny turned and walked into the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, he followed and found that the kitchen was full of bottles and containers, all labeled with the name of an herb. Destiny was cutting a plant into tiny pieces.

"I don't know what the villagers might have told you about me Van Helsing, but I'm no witch and I use herbs, same as any other healer." There was more that she wasn't telling him, he knew, but he didn't press the matter at that time. Maybe later he would find out more. Belatedly, he realized that she was speaking again.

"For a hunter, you're awfully willing to trust a stranger," she said, half teasing him. Van Helsing raised an eyebrow.

"Now who said I trusted you?"

She shrugged, her back still to him. "Either you do or you don't. Nothing I can do to change that. Oh, and this is Kassia." She indicated the small, black-haired girl who'd just come in to help with the herbs.

Kassia liked herb and healing. She wasn't as good as her mother, because she was still learning the basics, but she wanted to grow up to be a healer too. Her siblings were too busy admiring Van Helsing's weapons to come help. Anyway, Rinska and Darryl were disasters when it came to cutting even portions.

"Wow-ee," said Rinska, looking at a dagger.

"Do you suppose he'd teach us?" asked Darryl, eyeing a throwing star.

Rinska raised an eyebrow. "He might, but Mother probably wouldn't let us."

"Why not? She fought off that vampire three years ago."

"Special circumstance."

"What's a special circumstance?" Rinska and Darryl whirled around with guilty faces to see Van Helsing standing in the doorway.

"Nothing," said Rinska quickly. Van Helsing gave her an 'I-don't-buy-that' look.

"It's just, we were wondering, if perhaps, maybe, possibly–"

"You would teach us how to fight with weapons," interjected Darryl, as it was obvious that his sister wasn't going to get around to asking for a while. Van Helsing frowned. Teach 10-year-olds how to fight? They'd probably impale themselves.

"What does your mother think of this idea?" He was rewarded with sideways glances and guilty looks. Rinska was the one to answer.

"Well, she doesn't exactly know, but you could talk to her! Anyway, she's fought off a vampire before, why shouldn't we be able to fight too?" Van Helsing did a comic double take.

"Your mother fought a vampire and won?" He was having a hard time believing that Destiny was able to do that. She was only as tall as his shoulder for crying out loud. Maybe the children were exaggerating.

"Yep," Darryl affirmed. "He came at dinner time and Mother fought him for fifteen minutes and dusted him." Van Helsing sat down on a part of the bed not covered in baggage.

"Why don't you tell me a little bit about your mother?" he suggested. Clearly there were other facets to her than just being a healer. Rinska plopped down of the floor and Darryl took a seat on the arm of a chair.

"She's a healer," said Rinska, stating the obvious. "But sometimes she heals people in secret, behind closed doors, and we can't see what's going on. And those patients won't tell us either." She pouted slightly.

"She's sad all the time," added Darryl. "We don't know why, but she is. And something bothers her in her sleep. She always cries out in the night and one of us usually stays with her until she calms down."

"I hear her singing sometimes," Rinska said, eyes locked on Van Helsing's. "She sings slow songs, sad songs. They make me cry sometimes. But I'm not a baby or anything!" she quickly added.

"Never said you were," Van Helsing reassured her. "Where is your father?"

Rinska and Darryl exchanged glances. "We don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Nope. Mother never told us about him," said Rinska. "We've never met him. She won't even tell us his name," she ended sulkily. Rinska had inherited her curious nature form her mother and it pissed her off to not know stuff.

Van Helsing smiled at the two of them. "Why don't you go and do whatever it is you normally do right now. I promise I'll talk to your mother later about lessons." Those words forever put him in Rinska and Darryl's good books. Cheering, they ran off. Van Helsing watched them go thoughtfully. They had certainly given him some stuff to think about.

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AN: okay nice little readers. I'm really sick right now, but I felt like posting since you guys gave me a tidy pile of reviews the first day this story was up. So, inspire my muse and review. It'll make me feel better. achoo! See? Sick little author needs cheering up. Flames will be used to keep me warm. Cookies to all who review! 


	3. Twenty Questions

Chapter 3: Twenty Questions

AN: Hello, hello. Yes, I'm feeling better. Unfortunately, that also means I don't get to miss school anymore, which means not as much time to write. Well, supposedly. I write in class when I'm bored, which is often. The teacher is a Russian cardiologist, so I really have no clue as to WHY she's teaching us. Well, you can't even really call it teaching. Enough of that. My muse is talking to me, so I'll have to cut this author's note short and go write some more. Bet that makes you happy. Just don't expect every update to happen this fast. I just happen to be on a writing spree. Enjoy this chapter.

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Destiny shooed her children from the dinner table and they left, Kassia calling out that they were going to play by the sea. 

"Be back before nightfall!" Destiny called. A faint affirmative was all she got. Satisfied, she began to clear the dishes. A large male hand grabbed one dish before she could pick it up.

"Van Helsing?" she asked, startled. "I'm terribly sorry. I'd forgotten you were here. You didn't come out for dinner." She ended on a half accusatory note. Van Helsing grinned apologetically.

"Sorry. I'm so used to living on my own, I guess."

"Yes, when you're on the road, you do tend to forego all normal routines." There it was again, that odd sad note in her voice. Destiny shook her head, her white hair swaying with the motion.

"If you could collect the dishes," her manner was suddenly brisk and businesslike, "I'll start washing." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen. When Van Helsing dutifully brought the collected plates in there, he found her absently singing to herself as she dried a plate.

"Memories of forgotten times

Ghosts of the past make me cry

Always there, haunting me

Why can't the past just die?

Alone in solitude, no one there

Always running, always living a lie

Try as I might, I can't forget you

I just can't bear to say goodbye…"

"Goodbye to who?"

Destiny spun around and nearly dropped the plate she'd been holding. She'd been so wrapped up in her own little world that she hadn't even heard him come in.

"None of your business," she snapped curtly, and returned to looking out the window, which faced the sea. The black shapes of her children could be seen running around on the shore.

"Who is their father?" The instant he said that, Van Helsing knew he'd gone too far. Destiny whirled on him, her icy eyes blazing.

"That, _sir_, is none of your business! Why must you feel the need to pry into all of my private affairs!" Was it his imagination, or had she begun to glow faintly?

"Are…you glowing?" Van Helsing asked. That instantly took all of the wind out of Destiny's sails and she stopped glowing.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it when I do that…" she trailed off, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Then you lied to me earlier."

"Oh? When?"

"When you said that you were no witch and that you used herbs just like any other healer." Van Helsing was determined to find out just what in the hell was going on in this house. Destiny raised a pale eyebrow.

"I never lied to you Van Helsing. I am no witch, and I _do_ use herbs in healing." She chuckled. "Just not all the time."

"Fine. If you won't tell me who their father is, then at least tell me what he was like."

Destiny turned back to washing the dishes and didn't look at him the whole time she spoke.

"He was, I mean, _is_ an…amazing person." Van Helsing's finely attuned ears caught the fact that she chose, for whatever reason, not to say 'man'. But he let her go on without calling attention to it. "Handsome, possessive, very charismatic. Dangerously so, even. He is not someone you want to cross for any reason." Destiny was remembering the rages she used to provoke him in to. Van Helsing was thinking that he sounded eerily like Dracula.

"That's all I am ever going to tell you about him. Don't press me on this subject again." Her voice was distant and Van Helsing could tell she wasn't really thinking about the here-and-now. He didn't want to press her, but something strange was going on in this family and he was going to find out what it was.

"I won't press you Destiny," he assured her. "Not on that subject. But –"

"You want to know what's going on here?" She said, turning to look at him finally. "I should have expected this. Just goes to show that I've been alone too long. I'll tell you what. Since you want to know more about me and I want to know more about you, we'll take turns asking each other questions. One question at a time, and swear to tell the truth. Sound reasonable?"

Van Helsing realized that he would have to play her game and give up some information about himself, or he would never get anything out of her. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Sounds reasonable. Who asks first?"

"I do. Sit, please. This might take a little while. And nothing we say leaves this room, agreed?"

"Agreed."

"So, apart from being a hunter of evil, who are you exactly?"

Van Helsing smirked. "The Left Hand of God."

Destiny raised her eyebrows. "So your first name would be…let's see if I remember…Gabriel, right?"

He waggled a finger at her. "Ah-ah. One question at a time. It's my turn." He tried to think of a good question. "Why do you glow?"

It was Destiny's turn to smirk now. "Because I'm an angel." She had succeeded in surprising him, and he let her see it.

She pursed her lips. "Hmmm. How old are you?"

"Good question, but I don't even remember. Let's just say very, very old. I've been around so long I've lost track of the centuries. How about this: If you're an angel, why do you live on Earth?"

"Smart boy. I wasn't born an angel, I was born human, but I had angel blood in my veins. It was activated and I became an angel."

"Activated? How?"

Destiny rose abruptly. "I believe that's enough questions for now."

"Wait." He grabbed her hand to prevent her from leaving, as was clearly her intention. She glared at him. "I promise I'm not going to pry, but I just wanted to ask your permission for something." This seemed to reassure her, for she relaxed a little.

"Permission for what?"

"I wanted to know if you would let me train your children in weapons usage."

Destiny felt a tense knot uncurl in her stomach. "Would you really? I was hesitant to ask you, since I wasn't sure how long you're going to be staying here, but if you would…" Her eyes were pleading with him. "I know how to knife fight, but that's it and I'm not very good at teaching. Kassia will only want to know enough to keep herself safe, but Darryl and Rinska would love it."

"I bet they would. And if Kassia doesn't want to use weapons, I can teach her how to fight unarmed."

Destiny smiled. "That would probably work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go collect them."

She went down to the seaside. Kassia was combing the high-tide mark for seashells to make into necklaces and bracelets. Darryl and Rinska were engaged in a water fight, which Kassia was staying well away from, though she shouted encouragement to both sides.

"Rinska! Behind you!" Rinska threw herself to the side and managed to avoid most of the water that Darryl had chucked at her.

"Thanks Kas," she called. Spotting her mother, she waved.

"Is it time to go in already?"

Her mother smiled. "Yes, I'm afraid it is." There were groans of disappointment from all three children. Destiny glanced at the sky and saw the full moon rising, so bright that is was casting moon-shadows on the sand. The sight, which most people would have thought beautiful, sent shivers down her spine.

"Come on inside you three," she said, her voice steady. She quickly ushered them up the path to the cottage and inside, bolting the door behind her.

"Clean the sand off yourselves, and then in to bed with you." More groans. "Oh come now," Destiny chided. "If you're going to be like that, then maybe I shouldn't let Van Helsing teach you how to use weapons." Rinska and Darryl looked at her in delight and scampered off, eager to show that they were well behaved enough to earn that treat. Only Kassia stayed back.

"Kassia? Honey, what's wrong?" Destiny held out her arms and gathered Kassia to her, noting the worried look on her daughter's face.

"I don't want to go to sleep," whispered Kassia. "I've been having those dreams again."

Destiny stroked her hair reassuringly. "It's okay Kassia. They won't hurt you. You're safe, especially with Van Helsing in the house. We won't let anything harm you." Kassia whimpered and Destiny rocked her gently, like she had when Kassia was a baby.

"Why don't you sleep in my bed tonight, hmmm? Would that make you feel better?" Kassia nodded. "Then go get your nightgown on and go sleep in my room. I'll been there in a little while." Giving her mother a squeeze, Kassia walked off. Destiny stood, looking worriedly after her.

"What's wrong with her?" Van Helsing asked from the living room. Destiny walked in there and sat down in a chair opposite him.

"She gets dreams sometimes that scare her," Destiny explained. "All the children have a telepathic bond with each other, and me, though mine is not as defined as theirs. But…"

"Their father?" He probed gently. Van Helsing could sense that Destiny desperately needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust, and judging by the villagers' response to her earlier that day, he would guess that she normally didn't have a person like that to go to.

Destiny nodded. "Yes."

"He isn't human, is he?"

She sighed and looked down. "No. Immortals can only produce offspring with other immortals. Kassia's very empathic, and I think that when her father is very emotional, in a negative way, she can pick up on it in the form of dreams."

"Why is it only at night?"

"Can I trust you?" Destiny fixed him with a very intense stare.

"You already have. But if it makes you feel better, I won't tell anyone anything you've told me, I swear to you."

She shook a finger at him. "Not even the Knights of the Holy Order."

"I swear."

"And you won't hurt my children if I tell you?"

"Why would I do that?" Van Helsing was puzzled.

"Just promise me." She was deadly serious.

"I promise." He held up his right hand to reinforce that statement.

"The reason it's only at night is because…because their father is a vampire."

For a long time, neither of them said anything and the silence between them became awkward. Finally Van Helsing let out a long sigh.

"That's…" he couldn't find the right word.

"A shocker?" Destiny suggested sadly. "Yes, I suppose it is, and I suppose you think that such a thing smacks of heresy. But you can't help who you fall in love with. And I _do_ love him."

"I wouldn't say it smacks of heresy, though you're right in that some would, but it definitely is unusual."

Destiny laughed. "That's a severe understatement."

"I'll be blunt Destiny –"

"That's better than beating around the bush," she quipped. Van Helsing shook his head at her.

"I'm serious. You are wide out in the open over here and, until your children learn how to fight, virtually unprotected. That's dangerous, especially in this area. There's a high concentration of demonic activity here –"

"I know," Destiny said calmly.

"You _know_? And you still live here?"

"I have to live somewhere and seeing as I'm on the run, it needs to be somewhere hidden. This is the best place around. Their father has a mind-bond with me, so he can sense the general area where I am. But," she held up a hand to stop Van Helsing's question. "the demonic auras present here effectively mask my own aura, thus hiding me completely from his gaze. So you see, the safest place is actually the closest to danger."

She rose. "Now if you'll excuse me Van Helsing, I need to go comfort my daughter. Have a good night." With that, Destiny disappeared into her room.

"Kassia?" she called softly into the darkness.

"Yes mother," came the solemn reply. Destiny crossed to the bed and, disregarding the fact that she was still in her day clothes, lay down next to her daughter.

"How are you doing sweetie?" she asked, stroking her daughter's jet black hair and then twirling the white lock around her finger.

"Better."

"That's good." She kissed Kassia on the forehead. "Goodnight Kassia. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay." Kassia snuggled into her mother's side and promptly fell asleep. Destiny chuckled.

"Goodnight my darling daughter. I pray you have sweet dreams."

* * *

AN: Remember, reviews make the world go 'round. Flames will, as usual, be used to roast marshmallows. 


	4. Training

Chapter 4: Training

AN: Jeez. Can you can writing spree? Those of you who've been with me since the beginning know that I never update this fast. But I'm faithfully sticking to my posting rule and since I finished chapter five, here's chapter four. My muse is feeling very creative at the moment, not to mention that I have a lot of free time at school and therefore get really bored. What better way to pass the time? Anywho, for those of you who are anxiously waiting for a Dracula scene, stay tuned. You never know when one'll pop up. Buh-bye now (waves)

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Rinska and Darryl were awake very early the next morning in anticipation of their first weapons lesson. Rinska snuck into Darryl's room to talk to him about it while they waited for Van Helsing to wake up.

"What weapon do you want to learn?" asked Rinska.

Darryl raised an eyebrow at her. " 'Weapon'? As in singular? No, I want to learn them all," he declared. Rinska giggled.

"Well I particularly want to learn how to sword and knife fighting, unarmed, and crossbow." She looked out the window. "Urgh. When is he going to get up?"

"It's not even dawn yet Rin. Give him a chance." But Darryl was impatient too. It was worse than Christmas anxiousness. Finally, after what seemed like hours to them, they heard the sounds of the other people in the house getting up. Rinska raced off to her room to get dressed, leaving Darryl to do the same.

The minute Van Helsing stepped out of his room, he was intercepted by two eager ten-year-olds, both completely dressed and ready for the day.

"So when can we start?" asked Darryl.

Destiny poked her head out of the kitchen. "Kids, he's only been up for a minute! At least let him get some breakfast in him before he has to deal with you little terrors," she said in a fond, teasing tone. She was busy setting plates of food on the table. Darryl and Rinska at down on either side of Kassia and ate as fast as they possibly could, then sat waiting, staring pointedly at Van Helsing, while everyone else finished their meals.

When everyone _was_ done, they sprang up from their seats and collected the dishes, whisking them away into the kitchen to be washed.

"Don't break anything!" said Destiny, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

"We won't!" was the confident rejoinder. And they didn't. As excited as they were, Rinska and Darryl knew that if they broke a dish, they had to make a new one. Which was not something they particularly enjoyed.

Destiny looked over across the table at Van Helsing. "I think you'd better teach them sooner rather than later, or else they're going to burst from excitement."

Van Helsing chuckled. "And we couldn't have that now, could we?" He rose and headed to his room to pick out some good weapons to start training on. He would start them both on the sword, though that wasn't his favorite one to use. However, it was a good way of getting them used to watching their reactions, surroundings, and person (or thing) that they were fighting.

Why don't you practice on the beach?" Destiny suggested when Van Helsing mentioned that he wasn't sure where a good training spot was. "Serves a double purpose too, since if they train on sand, which shifts beneath your feet, they'll develop better balance and be faster on solid ground."

"You've put some thought into this," he said appreciatively. Destiny shrugged.

"No, not really. I just thought of it during breakfast. Speaking of which," she poked her head into the kitchen where the children were cleaning up, "Rinska, Darryl, Kassia." All three heads swiveled in her direction. "I'll finish cleaning up here. You three have practice now."

And that's the routine the household settled in to. After breakfast the kids would practice unarmed and knife fighting on the beach until Destiny came and got them for lunch. Once they had eaten, Van Helsing would take Rinska and Darryl back down to the beach for crossbow training and sword fighting while Kassia stayed behind with her mother to learn more about healing. If Rinska or Darryl ever complained, which was rarely, that she had the easier time of it, Kassia would simply rattle off a bunch of herbs and their uses. She had a lot to me memorize and her siblings would usually shut up but the twelfth herb.

Van Helsing was surprised by the dedication and determination of the Wiebke children to learn. Even Kassia, who wasn't as passionate about learning to fight, applied herself diligently. When he asked her about it, she merely shrugged and said, "If I'm going to do it, I may as well be good at it." Van Helsing couldn't fault that logic.

June wore on into July and one afternoon while Van Helsing was taking a nap in the living room, he was awakened by a cautious tapping on the front door.

"I got it," Destiny called. "Don't get up." She opened the door to reveal a young woman holding a baby and a bag.

"Ah, Cora," said Destiny pleasantly. "How's the baby?"

The woman, Cora, dipped a small curtsy, which was awkward to do with both hands full. "He has a bad rash, Lady, and nothing I do seems to help."

Destiny beckoned her inside. Van Helsing pretended to be asleep, but he was actually watching the two women through barely opened eyes and listening to every word that passed between them. Cora shot him a nervous glance and scuttled into the kitchen behind Destiny.

"How long has he been like this?" Destiny asked, holding out her arms to accept the baby who Cora handed to her. She placed him on the counter and examined his chest, which was red and inflamed. At her gentle touch, he started to fuss.

"There now little guy. I'm just trying to help," Destiny told him in a soft baby voice. She looked at Cora. "How long?"

Cora jumped, having forgotten that she'd been asked a question. "He's been like this two days, Lady. This is the third day."

"Hmmm." Destiny reached up to the shelves above the counter and pulled down a mortar and pedestal, plus a jar of herbs.

"Arnica flowers," she explained to Cora. She selected some herbs from the jar and put them in the little bowl. Then she crushed the plants into a pulp and added some oil to it to make a sort of paste. Shifting her body so that Cora couldn't see, she pricked her finger with the needle she always kept handy and squeezed a drop of her blood into the paste.

Destiny scraped the mixture into a tiny bottle and put the lid on. Turning around, she handed it to Cora.

"Put a small amount on your finger and gently rub it over the affected area," she instructed. "Wait five minutes and rinse it off. Do this three times a day until the rash disappears. If it hasn't gone away in three days, come back to me."

Cora picked up her baby and deposited the bag on the counter in his place.

"Thank you Lady," she whispered, curtsied again, and hurried out of the house.

Van Helsing got up and walked into the kitchen. Destiny was examining the contents of the bag, smiling. She looked up as he approached.

"What's the bag for?" he asked.

Destiny shrugged. "Extra food for the table. Whenever I heal one of the villagers they seem to feel the need to repay me, and they give me a little food as a result. The amount depends on how major the healing is. I used to tell them that they didn't need to, but they continued anyway, so I stopped protesting."

She smiled. "Cora is the baker's wife, so she usually brings something from her husband's shop. Now let's see…ah, sticky buns. The children love these." Van Helsing could see why, since the roll was covered in what looked to be a honey glaze.

"You seem to be awfully familiar with Cora," he remarked.

Destiny made a little 'eh' noise. "I know everyone in the town, since most of them have come to me for a remedy at some point or other. But you're right. I do like Cora, skittish though she is. I delivered her baby. It was a very hard labor and she most likely would have died had I not been there. Lucky for her I was and was able to stop the bleeding before she bled out. Though I do admit that I was scared for her for a little while. I can heal illnesses and injuries, but I can't replace lost blood."

"If she was bleeding that badly, how were you able to save her?" Van Helsing didn't know much about medicine, apart from basic first aid, but the situation sounded serious.

Destiny began to wash out the bowl as she explained. "Angels have natural healing abilities. We heal much faster than humans. The healing properties also extend to our blood. I put a few drops of my blood into an herbal broth that I gave to Cora and it healed her physical wounds as soon as she ingested it. I can heal with herbs, but usually I include a drop of my blood, just a drop, to make sure it really works _well._ Never hurts to be extra careful."

She grinned at him and Van Helsing found himself grinning back, her smile was so infectious. He was a solitary soul by nature and his profession didn't encourage close friendships, but he was glad to know Destiny and her children.

* * *

AN: Review, pretty please. (dangles free Dracula's) see, all you need is motivation. (smirk) 


	5. Dreams

Chapter 5: Dreams

AN: Stupid, stupid, stupid hurricane! I know I haven't updated in a while, but that stupid (mumbles things under her breath that cannot be repeated in polite society) hurricane named Wilma decided to pay me a visit on Monday. Yes, I know today's Saturday, but Wilma very nicely (cough) blew through and knocked out all my power. We just got it back today. That means I had to endure six mortal days of no air conditioning, no fans, no TV, no light, and (gasp) NO COMPUTER! None whatsoever! I was going C.R.A.Z.Y.!

Anywho, I'm back now, but though I tried to write chapter 6 in long hand, I've got writer's block on part of it. Regardless, I'm posting this chapter, even though it's breaking my posting rule, because I wanted to reward you guys for being so patient with me. Though it was really that stupid (mumbles more non-polite things) hurricane's fault (more mumbling)…yeah. I'll stop now and let you get on reading this chapter.

* * *

"Mother." Kassia tapped her mother's arm lightly. Destiny glanced at her daughter but kept most of her attention of the sharp knife she was using to cut herbs.

"Yes Kassia?"

"I'm thirsty," Kassia stated. Destiny pointed to the pump outside the house.

"You know where the pump is."

Kassia shook her head, though Destiny didn't see. "No, I'm _thirsty_." She put a heavy emphasis on 'thirsty', which Destiny caught. Turning around she eyed her daughter.

"You do look a little paler than usual. How bad is it?"

"Not bad yet."

Destiny sighed and rubbed her face. She'd almost forgotten about this. "Well, if you're feeling it then your brother and sister won't be far behind. Where's Van Helsing?"

"In his room."

Destiny nodded and headed down the hallway. The door to Van Helsing's room was closed, so she knocked politely.

"Come in."

Opening the door she poked her head into the room. Van Helsing was sitting in a chair by the window sharpening one of his daggers.

"Van Helsing?"

He looked up. "What is it?"

"Could you keep an eye on things here for a little while? I need to run to town to get something."

He shrugged his acceptance of the idea. "Sure. Just be sure to be back well before dark. The full moon's coming and you shouldn't take any chances," he cautioned.

Destiny acknowledged his warning with a nod, though she already knew what he told her. "I will. Thank you."

She strolled casually down the seaside path to Pelagia. Since she didn't want to attract attention on this particular errand, she had swapped her normal light flowing dress for a common maroon one with a dark apron. Her hair she wrapped with a length of cloth.

As usual, her disguise worked and no one looked twice at her as she made her way to the butcher's. However, instead of going through the front door, Destiny headed around the building to knock on the back door.

The butcher, Christoff, opened it. Seeing her, he nodded once and shut the door. She waited and after five minutes he came back out with a brown jug. Destiny tried to pay him, but as usual he refused to accept the money and just motioned for her to go on back.

She reached her house just as the sun began to set.

"I'm back," she called, walking into the kitchen. Grabbing three cups from the cabinet, she pried the cork from the neck of the jug and poured its contents equally into them. Van Helsing was in the living room with the children seated on the floor in front of him, listening attentively as he told them one of his hunting stories.

The minute the liquid splashed into the cups, their heads swiveled towards the kitchen and they got up. Van Helsing followed them into the kitchen and hung back in the doorway, watching as they eagerly accepted the cups handed to them. Destiny noticed Van Helsing and went to stand by him. He frowned slightly when he noticed that whatever they were drinking was thicker than water and red in color.

"Is that –"

"Blood? Yes, but it's pig's blood," Destiny was quick to assure him. "They've never tasted human blood and pig is the closest thing to that." She spoke quietly, so that the children wouldn't hear.

"They don't need it as often, nor in as large quantities, as a regular vampire. A cup or two once a month will suffice and as long as I feed them animal blood they'll never know the difference. I hope they never taste human blood, hope they never…" Destiny trailed off, lost in thought.

"Never what?" Van Helsing pressed. But Destiny just shook her head. By now, the three children had drunk their fill and were dutifully washing out their cups.

She raised her voice back to normal volume as she said, "Now, it's getting dark, so I want you guys to go get ready for bed."

"Mother!" Rinska complained. "Van Helsing was telling us about the time he had to kill a werewolf with a silver candle holder! And it was just getting good. Please?" She tried the puppy-eyes that Kassia was so good at employing. Her mother just shook her head.

"Nice try Rinska, but it's not working. Bed time." And she pointed her finger down the hallway. Van Helsing noticed the dejected look on all three of their faces. He had an idea, but Destiny probably wouldn't like it. However, they had to go into the field sometime.

"I'll tell you what," he said, looking at them. "If you go to bed now, nicely, then I'll not only finish the story tomorrow, but I'll also take you on your first werewolf hunt."

The kids were too shocked to speak. Destiny, however, had no such problem finding her tongue.

"Darryl, Rinska, Kassia, go get ready for bed," she said firmly. "Van Helsing and I have something to discuss." The three of them obediently went to their rooms and changed into their nightclothes, but then opened their doors a crack and sat there, listening to the argument.

"Gabriel Van Helsing, have you lost your mind?" demanded Destiny.

"You're not the first person to ask that question," he replied amiably.

"Be serious," she snapped. "Don't you think you should've cleared this with me before you went and got their hopes up?"

"Destiny –"

"Don't you 'Destiny' me Van Helsing. A werewolf? They're ten years old! It's at least twice their size!"

Van Helsing felt obliged to point out, "It's twice your size too."

Destiny's eyes flashed. She knew she was short, but, "I fight vampires, not werewolves. Free them, cure them, yes. Fight them, no." She poked him in the chest pointedly.

Van Helsing spread his hands. "You know they need field practice too, not just supervised training, if they're ever going to be any good. You know I won't leave them by themselves out there." He waited.

She sighed, shoulders sagging slightly. "It's just that…they're my children and I'm scared that something will happen to them." Destiny lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She seemed to have made up her mind.

"Fine, they can hunt with you. But if any of them get hurt…" she let the unspoken words hang in the air between them.

Van Helsing gave her a small smile. "Why don't you follow your own orders and go to bed? Some sleep might help your nerves." He gave her a gentle push towards her room.

Destiny nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Though Destiny did go to bed, sleep eluded her. After a few hours of staring into the darkness she closed her eyes, finally succumbing to the weariness she felt. And she dreamed…

She was in a small study, lit only by the moonlight streaming through a single window. Destiny didn't recognize where she was, so she crossed to the window, nervously brushing her long hair out of her eyes. All she could tell form the view the window provided was that she was up high and surrounded by mountains.

A chill passed through her and she shivered. She was familiar with only one place that fit that description. Two hands came to rest on her shoulders.

"So nice of you to drop in for a visit my dear. It's been what, nearly eleven years?" Destiny froze, going stiff beneath his touch. As usual when she was around Dracula, her mind had a biting retort ready for her the instant he finished speaking.

"Well, seeing as I'm asleep and can't teleport anyway, you must have brought me here, though it's a trip could have done without."

"I see that time has not dulled your tongue nor diminished your spirit," Dracula remarked mildly. He moved his hands from her shoulders to her hips. "Relax. You're too tense."

Destiny turned around to face him, crossing her arms in annoyance, though she could not deny her reaction to his touch. "I'm in your vicinity. Of course I'm tense."

He chuckled. "I hadn't realized how much I've actually missed you. You actually make life interesting, when you're not running away that is." There was a hint of amused displeasure in his voice.

Destiny tried to keep her face impassive, but failed as she gave him a mischievous smirk. "With all the trouble I caused, I'm surprised you didn't just say 'I've had it' and kill me."

Dracula pulled her closer, and though her mind was screaming for her to, she didn't resist. "But that would be so boring," he whispered. "Besides, I like a challenge now and then."

"I am that," Destiny admitted, but she was cut of abruptly when Dracula captured her lips with his. At first she tensed in surprise, but relaxed as the kiss deepened. She hadn't been kissed like this in so long, and it felt so good. Being chaste for eleven years certainly had its disadvantages.

He pulled away first, remembering that at least one of them needed air, but she merely took the quickest breath possible and pressed her lips to his again. Oh how she reveled in the warmth that spread through her entire body. Though she had never done drugs, Destiny would swear blind that this was what being high felt like. When they pulled apart for the second time, she could feel that her face was flushed and she was shaking slightly.

"I especially like a challenge when I'm winning," Dracula said, softly but smugly. She realized that she had to get away from here before things went too far.

"Whoever said you were winning?" she challenged, and fled from her dream.

As she began to wake up, she could hear his voice echoing in her mind. "You can't hide forever. One way or another, you will return to me."

* * *

AN: Heeeeee's baaaaaack! Kekeke. Ah, how I love DestDrac scenes. They have such an interesting love/hate relationship. Now, be nice and review! Stimulate my muse, I beg of you! Flames will be used to burn all the debris around my house.


	6. An Unpleasant Discovery

Chapter 6: An Unpleasant Discovery

AN: Okay, so I'm breaking my posting rule, again. Bad me, but I have writer's block, again. That's okay, it'll disappear at school tomorrow, right in the middle of American Government, when I have absolutely no opportunity to write, which'll drive me absolutely nuts. It happens every time, like clockwork. I'm used to it. (smile) Well, all I can say about this chapter and the next is: don't assume things, and keep your eyes open for the return of another character from A Girl Called Destiny. Can you guess who? Oh, and I have a question. Someone mentioned 'canon' in their review. What in the heck is that? Poor me. I'm very confused.

* * *

Destiny awoke to the familiar sight of her homely little bedroom and sighed in relief. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the sensation of the kiss. But she shook her head. 

"Stop this Destiny," she chided herself. "You know darn well that no matter how much he says he misses you, he can easily do all the things you know he's capable of. And it's not pretty." Giving herself an admonitory slap, she got up and got dressed, brushed the knots out of her hair, and left the room. She paused in the doorway.

"Though it was nice to see him again."

Ack! Bad Destiny, bad thoughts! she thought to herself as she entered the rest of the house. Van Helsing, true to his word, was finishing up the werewolf story in the living room with her children.

"Have you guys already eaten?" she asked. Darryl turned so he could see her.

"Yeah. We went in and tried to wake you, but you wouldn't wake up no matter what we did." Rinska and Kassia giggled, giving Destiny the impression that some of their attempts were a bit…unconventional.

"Well, either way, I'm up now," she said, trying to imagine just what exactly they tried to do. Perhaps it was better if she didn't know. "Well, I hope you walking stomachs left something in the kitchen for me," putting a false joking note into her voice, she turned to get herself some breakfast.

Naturally observant as he was, Van Helsing followed her, disturbed by the look in her eyes that she wasn't quite able to hide. As she reached for the cabinet's handle, he caught her wrist. Guessing his reason for following her, Destiny turned her head away from him. She really didn't want to be interrogated right now. She still had to figure it out within herself.

You already know, whispered the nasty little voice in the back of her mind. _You've been denying it for years, but you know._

, whispered the nasty little voice in the back of her mind. 

"Destiny, what's wrong?" Van Helsing questioned, perturbed by her silence, by the fact that she wouldn't even look at him.

"Please, leave me alone," she said quietly, trying to avoid attracting her children's attention. She needn't have worried, for the door slammed at that very moment, announcing that Darryl, Rinska, and Kassia had, like typical children, gotten bored very quickly and decided to go out and play.

"I'm not going to leave you alone," Van Helsing replied seriously. "You may as well have been dead this morning. You were as cold as ice, wouldn't wake, and I know you know why!" He ended in a hiss, his frustration serving to mask the concern he had felt that morning.

Destiny glared at him, but she couldn't hold his gaze and so dropped her eyes to the floor. "If you _must_ know –"

"I do."

"I was 'visiting' their father."

"Their father?" he asked in disbelief. She scowled at him.

"Yes. Their father. My lover. Do I need to spell it out for you Van Helsing? Now, if that is all, I'd like to be able to get some breakfast in me before I start the day's work." Destiny tried to pull away from him, but he only tightened his grip of her arm.

"No, that's not all. You said their father was a vampire." She nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "But normal vampires can_not_ hold people in their minds from a distance, which is obviously what he did. So therefore, he can_not_ be a normal vampire!"

Cursing mentally, Destiny's mind raced for an explanation that would satisfy this damnably suspicious hunter. One came to her. "We share a mind bond, remember?" Obviously he hadn't, because Van Helsing just shook his head slowly.

"But that should only –"

Destiny interrupted him. "Should only what? Have you ever been mind-bonded to someone?"

He shook his head.

"Have you studied them?"

Another shake.

"Then don't profess to know what they 'should only' entail. And I told you, don't question me about their father. This is the second time you've done so, and this is the last time I'm going to warn you not to. Understood?" She spoke sternly, as she would to one of her own children if they had done something wrong. Van Helsing had no time to reply as the front door banged open and Kassia rushed in.

"Van Helsing?" she called, poking her head into the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Van Helsing and her mother glaring at each other in the kitchen, something she'd never seen before, not once in the months that he'd been there. Van Helsing released Destiny's arm and turned his attention to her daughter.

"What is it?"

"We found something weird that we think you should see." One small hand beckoned to him, asking that he come with her, which he did. She led him around the side of the house to the side nearest the woods. Darryl and Rinska were crouched on the ground, looking at something intently. Kassia pointed to them.

"It's over there." He crossed to the other two children and knelt beside them.

"What is it?" Rinska asked him. Following the direction of her gaze, he spied footprints in the dirt underneath her bedroom window. Werewolf footprints, to be exact.

"So?" Darryl prodded. "What kind of prints are they?"

Van Helsing stood. "Some kind of wolf, would be my guess." Well, it was nothing more than the truth, though not the whole version. He turned and headed back into the house.

"Destiny?"

"I'm in here," she called from her place at the kitchen table. Sitting down opposite her, he watched her eat for a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to tell her. Luckily, Destiny brought up the subject for him.

"So, what did the children find that was so interesting?" she asked, glancing up at him. Catching her eyes, he held her gaze seriously. "Van Helsing? What's wrong?"

He sighed. "They found werewolf footprints –" He was interrupted by Destiny shriek.

"WHAT?"

As he wiggled a finger in his ear to try and dispel the ringing in it, Van Helsing glared at her.

"Could you yell any louder?" he asked crossly. "I don't think they hear you in America."

"Now is not the time to try and be funny Van Helsing," she snapped back. "Where exactly did they find the prints?"

Inside himself, Van Helsing winced. She was not going to like the answer to that question. "Outside Rinska's window."

Instead of exploding, however, Destiny became very still. She didn't say anything at first, but her face, which was ghostly pale at the best of times, went sheet white. She was afraid, very afraid for herself, her children, and even for Van Helsing. Werewolves were nasty and if this beast was in Dracula's service…she shuddered, telling herself not to even think about it.

"Van Helsing, we have to get rid of that werewolf."

"Tonight's the full moon. We were going out hunting anyway." He tried to reassure her, but he could tell that it wasn't really working. She rose, pushing her half-eaten breakfast away from her.

"Be careful tonight, okay?"

Van Helsing nodded and she turned, heading towards her bedroom. Destiny just wanted to have some alone time.

Van Helsing watched her go, wondering if he should have told her that there were two sets of footprints.

Okay, you know the drill. Review, make me happy, and stimulate my lazy-ass muse. Flames will be used to, well…let's just say my next-door neighbors won't be very happy. Kekeke (shifty eyes)


	7. The First Hunt

Chapter 7: The First Hunt

AN: Yet again, I'm breaking my posting rule. I've decided to do away with that. It's only practical when I'm on a writing spree anyway. But I have a new rule in its place: I won't post a new chapter until I have at least 10 reviews on the previous one. Sound fair? That way everyone's happy. You get your chapters, I get my reviews, which makes for a very happy author, which makes for a very happy muse, which makes for story ideas, which makes for chapters, which makes for happy readers. See? It's one big circle.

Anywho (yes, that is my word), someone asked when this story is taking place. Right now the kids are just about to turn 11 and it is approximately 10 or so years before the movie takes place. Got it? Good. Well, I only have one more thing to say. Weebo. Okay, I'll shut up now and let you read.

* * *

The moon rose full and luminous in the velvet darkness of the night, shedding its pale light on the town that lay below. At this time of night, everyone was fast asleep, wearied by the full day's work.

Well, almost everyone.

Van Helsing woke the children who were sleeping in order to have enough energy to last through the night ahead. They rose and dressed, all wearing the same practical outfit of boots, pants, and a loose shirt. They had been given a crash course in shooting, and so were each armed with one of Van Helsing's numerous guns and silver daggers.

Their mother and Van Helsing were waiting for them in the front hall. She hugged each one of them tightly.

"Be safe," she said.

Van Helsing led them to the footprint, looked at the prints, and then examined the ground around them. He found the werewolf's trail and stood. He turned to the children.

"Follow me, and _be quiet_." And they plunged into the forbidding darkness that was the forest.

Kassia looked around nervously as they walked, half expecting the werewolf to just jump out at them from the trees. She had been in this forest plenty of times, but always during the day. It amazed her how much of a change occurred when the sun went down. Majestic trees became towering monsters, their long branches reaching out to grab her. The paths she normally took were hidden in the gloom. A shriek pierced the oppressive silence, causing Kassia to jump.

It was only an owl.

She looked at her siblings in front of her. Darryl seemed undisturbed, as did Rinska. She snorted. Rinska would never admit to being afraid, even if it were blindingly obvious that she was. She was too proud to show what she viewed as weakness.

They reached a clearing when Van Helsing held up his hand in a 'stop' signal. He drew them over to the side of the clearing and knelt down, pulling something from the cloth bag he'd brought with them. Kassia turned her head away as he pulled out a dead rabbit.

"The werewolf is somewhere around this area," he explained in a low voice, so that even they had to lean in to hear him. "Fresh meat should lure it over here, so that we don't have to go stumbling around the forest blindly, easy prey. Here's the plan: each of you will situate yourself in a high branch of one of these trees. Wait until the werewolf is well into the clearing before firing, and let me take the first shot. Pick your shots, don't just fire at anything that moves. You need to save your bullets. Understand?"

They nodded dutifully.

"Good. Go pick your tree." He threw the rabbit into the approximate center of the clearing and settled himself in the brush to wait. Van Helsing had picked his spot on the eastern side of the clearing. Darryl chose a tree on the north, Kassia on the south, leaving Rinska the western portion to guard.

She snuck up the tree branches as quietly as she could and settled herself on a strong branch. It had plenty of leaves to hide her from prying eyes, but not so much that she didn't have a clear view of the clearing. She could see Kassia and Darryl sitting in their trees. She really didn't expect to be able to spot Van Helsing. He was, after all, a hunter.

Rinska soon learned what all hunters know: waiting for prey to walk into a trap is boring. It seemed like hours passed. She shifted position, trying to get comfortable, which was hard to do, seeing as the tree bark was rough and poked her. Then she heard it: something was moving down on the ground.

Hardly daring to breathe, Rinska leaned out a little to see what was going on. A large furry shape was visible at the clearing's edge. The werewolf was grey in color and bigger than she'd thought it would be. It cautiously approached the rabbit, sniffing around to try and pick up any other scents. Hmm, it was smart too, to be suspicious. That wasn't good.

As the werewolf neared the rabbit, Rinska leaned out a little farther in order to get a better shot. She went too far however, and toppled out of the tree, unable to keep a cry from escaping her mouth. As she hit the ground with a dull thud, the werewolf spun around and snarled at her. Clearly it viewed her as much more interesting prey than a dead rabbit.

The werewolf lunged at her as Kassia cried a warning, and two things happened at once. A shot rang out, causing thee werewolf to howl in pain, and a form barreled into her, knocking her out of the werewolf's path. Unfortunately, her head landed on a rock. Stars exploded in from of her eyes, but her ears still worked as well as ever. Rinska heard the sound of someone fighting the werewolf by themselves and she struggled into a sitting position.

It was another man, armed with a long silver knife, and while it was clear that he had skill with the blade, it was also clear that he was outmatched. Humans were not designed to go one-on-one with a full-grown werewolf. She had to help him. Raising her gun in one hand, she poised her knife ready to throw in the other and looked for an opening to attack. In the background, Rinska could hear her siblings firing their own guns at the beast.

There!

She shot, and flung the knife at the werewolf. The bullet was a bit off-target, only hitting it in the shoulder, but her knife buried itself up to the hilt in its heart. Rinska put her throbbing head back down with a groan.

Kassia and Darryl practically flew down their respective trees and raced over to where their sister lay, not too far from the dead werewolf, which was slowly reverting back to its human form, a sure sign that it was truly dead. Van Helsing followed on their heels, but the stranger got there before them.

Van Helsing eyed the stranger warily, carefully looking him over. He looked unremarkable, with an average build, medium brown hair, and brown eyes. Currently, the stranger was kneeling down beside Rinska, carefully examining her head where it had struck the rock.

"It's not serious," he determined. "But she'll be dizzy for a little while. Looks like only a mild concussion."

"Wonderful," said Rinska sarcastically. The man smiled, stood, and looked at Van Helsing.

"Who are you?" Van Helsing demanded. The man held out his hand.

"The name's Sven," he said pleasantly, as if they were just meeting on a sunny spring day, not at midnight in a dark forest standing next to a dead werewolf. Van Helsing took her hand.

"Van Helsing," he said in return.

Sven bent down and picked Rinska up, as it was clear that she was too dizzy to walk. "Well then, Van Helsing, we'd better get the children back to their house. If I'm correct, Destiny will be nearly beside herself with worry by this time."

That stopped Van Helsing in the middle of his tracks. "Hold on. You know Destiny?"

Sven shrugged. "I'll tell you later, when we get there. She'll be surprised to see me, to put it lightly."

Van Helsing was deep in thought. "So, you were the second pair of footprints then?"

"Yes. I've been tracking this werewolf for weeks, so naturally I would want to investigate anywhere it chose to prowl." They lapsed into silence. The Kassia and Darryl exchanged surprised glances. Things were definitely getting a little weird.

Destiny was watching out the front window for their return. Through the bond she had with her kids, she could feel Rinska's injury and was none too happy about it. Her icy eyes picked out a group of shapes emerging from the darkness of the forest and she sprang up, grabbed a lantern, and rushed outside.

Van Helsing could see Destiny hurrying towards them, lantern in hand. As she neared, the sound of her voice got louder and he realized that she was already berating him for 'letting' Rinska get hurt.

"– and you said 'I won't leave them by themselves'. Maybe you didn't, but –"

"Hey," Rinska interrupted from her position in Sven's arms. "Mother, it was my own fault I got hurt –"

"Then you have some explaining to do missy."

"–I fell out of a tree and Sven knocked me out of the way so that the werewolf didn't get me, causing me to hit my head on a rock."

Destiny rounded on Sven. Drawing breath to yell at him too, she stopped and stared at him. Sven watched, amused by all of this, as she held the lantern up to see him better and peered up at him. Her eyes widened in recognition.

"Sven? SVEN! What in God's name are _you_ doing here?"

"Tracking a werewolf," he said simply. "But it's dead now, so could we take this inside? Rinska's got a mild concussion." As she beckoned them inside, Sven winked to Van Helsing, who realized that Destiny's attention had just been skillfully diverted from venting her anger to being better spent on caring for her daughter. He smiled back.

Destiny directed Sven to Rinska's room, where he lay her on her bed and stepped back to give her mother access to her. Rinska closed her eyes as her mother pressed a cool hand to her forehead. It didn't feel like her mother had done anything, but Rinska could definitely feel the headache and dizziness abating.

"Better?"

Rinska nodded sleepily. Destiny stood and ushered everyone from the room. "Healings always tire her. She'll sleep 'til morning. Now," she said, turning her attention to Kassia and Darryl, "I want you two to go to bed as well. You've had a busy night." They couldn't argue with that.

The adults headed into the living room and all took a seat. An awkward silence hung in the air. Van Helsing was the first to broach the topic. "So, Sven, you told me that when we got here that you'd tell me how you know Destiny."

Sven nodded. "I did say that. It started when I was bitten by a werewolf and captured by a certain vampire named Dracula. He took me to his fortress and forced me to serve him. He can control the minds of the werewolves he uses, can see and hear what they see and hear. Therefore they make excellent hunters. I was rebellious, and he would send his servant to torture me."

"After one of these torture sessions, someone new came into the dungeon. Destiny was the first kind face I'd seen in a while and I didn't know what to make of it. But Dracula came in, angry with her for coming in there. She demanded to know when he got the right to control her every move, and he responded 'When you carry my children'."

Destiny, mentally, groaned and smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. She'd fended off Van Helsing's questions about her lover's identity for nearly two months and Sven had to go and spill the beans. If Van Helsing had been drinking at the time, he would have spat it out in surprise.

"To make a long story short, Destiny was able to free me and cure me of being a werewolf. I've been watching out for her the last five years. She gave me my life back. It's the least I can do to make sure she keeps hers."

Van Helsing hadn't heard any of this though. His mind was still trying to digest the fact that the father of Destiny's children, her lover, had been Dracula. Maybe he should get a drink, a strong one.

"You…and Dracula?" was all he could manage to get out. Destiny was pretending to be intensely interested in something outside the window as she answered.

"If you must know, yes. Me and Dracula. I gather from your stunned expression that you know him?"

"Knew him," he corrected. "That was nearly four hundred years ago, give or take a decade."

"Oh, so you're the one who cut off his finger," she inferred, and looked at his hand. "I was wondering where you got that ring."

Where he got his ring was the least of Van Helsing's concerns at the moment. As the Left Hand of God, he had a duty to protect humankind by eradicating what evil he could. As Destiny's friend, he had a duty to protect her and her children from harm, half vampire though they were.

Seeming to read his thoughts, Destiny stood. "You have a choice laid before you Van Helsing. No one can make it for you, but know that whatever path you take, you cannot turn from. In this game, there are no second choices."

He watched her leave the room. Maybe a strong drink was a good idea after all.

* * *

AN: Duh-duh-duuuuh. What'll happen now, I wonder? Actually, it's you guys who are wondering, because I, the all-knowing (yeah right) author, already know! Sort of. Kind of. Well, actually, my muse knows. I'm just the slave. Review and then I'll be a happy slave. Flames will be used to keep my feet warm. 


	8. Beta Search

HELP! I am looking for a beta reader, and I nee one really, really badly. Chapter 8 is halfway done, but I'm in a months-long slump and maybe a beta can get me out of it. I really want to continue this story, but I just need some assistance. If you're interested inn becoming my beta, email me at: 


	9. The Letter

Chapter 8: The Letter

The children were the only ones who slept even remotely well that night, or what was left of it. Van Helsing paced the length of his room, debating with his conscience about what to do in this more-than-sticky situation. Tossing and turning, Destiny fretted about what Van Helsing's ultimate decision would be. Sven worried about them both.

Destiny eventually lapsed into a semi-restful sleep that only lasted a few hours. She was awakened by the warm brightness of the sun as it streamed through her window, which she had been staring out of last night and had forgotten to close. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she sat up and stretched, trying to work a kink out of her lower back. A wrongness niggled at the back of her mind. Now what was it?

The house was too quiet, she realized. Usually at this time in the morning one would hear the sounds of breakfast being started, or of a fight between siblings, or just the general sounds of life. All of these were absent now.

Not bothering to dress, Destiny vacated her room. First she checked the rooms of her children. Rinska was still asleep, but Kassia and Darryl were nowhere to be found. Van Helsing's room was also empty. A shaft of alarm shot through her. Had something happened to them? The sensible part of her mind reasoned that if Van Helsing had done something to them, he would have hurt Rinska too, who was fine. For once, she listened to it.

"Destiny?" She quite literally jumped a foot in the air as Sven's voice broke the oppressive silence that hung in the house. Destiny spun around a pressed a hand to her chest to still her rapidly beating heart.

"Don't _do_ that!" she exclaimed. "Where is everybody?"

Sven raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't worry your mind crazy Destiny. Kassia and Darryl are down on the beach. I haven't seen Van Helsing, but he probably just took a walk to try and sort everything out."

That was, in fact, exactly what Van Helsing had done. He had risen early that morning and slipped quietly out of the house to take a walk on the beach. This plan had good intentions, but failed as he discovered that the silence on the deserted beach only seemed to press in on him and made it impossible to think for any length of time. So, reviewing his options, he opted to go with his plan from last night and headed in to Pelagia to get a strong drink. How getting a strong drink was going to help he didn't know, but the idea appealed to him.

The tavern keeper was surprised, to say the least, to see someone in there that early in the morning, but money was money and if the strange man that lived with their healer wanted to buy a drink, he certainly wasn't going to dissuade him.

Van Helsing took his drink to a back table, hoping no one would disturb him. No such luck. A few minutes later a young boy, probably a few years older than Darryl, entered and asked the tavern keeper if he knew the whereabouts of a Mr. Gabriel Van Helsing. The man pointed over to where Van Helsing sat, watching the exchange. The boy walked over and handed him an envelope bearing the seal of the Knights of the Holy Order. Absently giving the boy a coin for his service, he opened the note and scanned it.

_Van Helsing, _

_Salutations and congratulations on your work in Germany. I am sorry to call on you on such short notice, but your presence is needed at the Vatican as soon as you can be spared from your current task. I dare not put the reason in writing, for this message may be intercepted. Though I am sure that you are well aquatinted with this lesson, I am obliged to remind you that evil comes in many forms and that it can be found in the most unlikely places. Keep your eyes open and trust your instincts. Remember that it is your job, nay, your duty to eradicate evil form this earth. I pray you have a safe journey. _

_Cardinal Claudius_

Van Helsing folded up the letter, slipped it in his coat pocket, and walked out of the tavern with a determined look on his face. The letter had actually solved his problem, though it had not been intended to and no doubt the Knights of the Holy Order would be displeased at his decision. But Destiny and her children no longer had anything to worry about from him at least.

He wandered back down the path towards Destiny's house, his heart feeling considerably lighter now that he had reached a decision.

The house was as silent as a tomb, so it was obvious that everyone was out doing something. Van Helsing shed his coat, seeking reprieve from the heat of the day, and tossed it carelessly on his bed before heading out in search of everyone.

Rinska jogged out of the forest, having finished the errand her mother had sent her on. She loathed gathering herbs, but at least it gave her a valid excuse for getting out of the house and avoiding her chores. She'd rather be training with her siblings and Van Helsing, but he was nowhere to be found.

Rinska winced slightly as the door banged shut behind her, the sound reverberating in the silent house. Depositing the herbs in the kitchen, she wandered down the hall in the general direction of Van Helsing's room.

"Van Helsing?" she called, poking her head through the doorway. He wasn't there, but his coat was, flung haphazardly upon the bed with a folded piece of paper sticking out of a pocket. Rinska had inherited perhaps the largest share of her mother's inquisitive nature. As she crept into the room to take a look, she told herself, _I'm not nosy, just curious._

Slipping the paper out of the pocket, Rinska opened it and read the message. A frown creased her forehead. Something in that letter didn't sound right. Maybe her mother should see it.

Destiny had hidden herself when she saw Van Helsing exit the house. Once he was out of sight, she entered through the back door and nearly ran into Rinska, who was attempting to exit at the same time. "Oops. Sorry Mother." Rinska said. Without further preamble, she handed her mother the note.

Destiny read it, then re-read it, frowning just like her daughter had moments before. She read it a third time, carefully analyzing the Cardinal's choice of words and phrasing. Loosely interpreted, it could be applied to her children, or even her (though that was a bit of a stretch).

"Rinska, where did you get this?" When Rinska didn't answer right away, Destiny shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

Destiny considered her options. If Van Helsing had been leaning towards "dealing" with her children, this letter could certainly cement that idea in his mind…

"Rinska, go to your room and pack a small bag. Necessities only." Rinska looked confused for a moment before comprehension dawned on her face and she left. Destiny went and put the letter back in Van Helsing's coat pocket.

The sun was beginning to set over the ocean, going down in a blaze of fiery glory. Van Helsing watched it sink lower and lower, then sighed and turned back in the direction of Destiny's house. He hadn't been able to find her, or her kids, or Sven. Maybe they would be at the house, though if they were purposely avoiding him, he doubted they would be.

Surprisingly, the door opened before he even reached it. Sven stood there with an unreadable look on his face.

"Sven? Where are Destiny and her kids? I have to –"

Sven cut him off with a wave of his hand and shook his head. "They're not here."

Van Helsing knew what that meant. They had gone into hiding, and Sven was offering him a choice. He could track them if he really wanted, but…

"Tell them…tell them to watch out for themselves, and remind the kids to keep practicing."

Sven gripped Van Helsing's shoulder. "Take care of yourself too."

With those few parting words, Van Helsing left.


	10. Omens and Portents and Dreams, Oh My!

Chapter 9: Omens and Portents and Dreams, Oh My!

AN: I know, I know, it's been a while. Don't yell at me for it. I've been beating the crap out of this chapter for about a month and have finally made enough progress to move on to the next. Whew. This was by far the hardest chapter to write in this story so far, and maybe even the hardest of both stories together. Everything had to lead to a certain point, yadda yadda yadda. I won't bore you with the details of my battles with trying to get my muse to let me have more than a sentence at a time. Let it suffice to say that I won, barely. And now, on with the drama.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the house of the town baker, Destiny was putting her kids to bed, not an easy task as the kids were telepathically picking up on her own stress. She hoped that Van Helsing would just go away, or that he wouldn't find them even if he did look. She hadn't picked the most likely or the least likely of hiding places, or the middle, but rather, the hiding place that was just a few away from being the least likely place to hide.

She kissed Kassia on the forehead and went to the other room the baker had made available to her, where she lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep.

_It was dark all around, the light of the moon visible through the treetops not reaching down to where Destiny stood on a dirt path, all alone and confused. Something moved in the trees behind her. Its movements were silent, but she could sense it stalking her. Dream-instinct told her to run, so run she did, taking off like a bullet down the path, her feet pounding the earth and her hair streaming out behind her like a pale banner. _

_Common sense kicked in right about then and Destiny abandoned the obvious route of escape, forsaking the path for the relative safety of the trees. Dream-time plays trick with your mind, and she felt like she'd been running forever, though it had probably only been a few minutes. Why couldn't she stop running? That's right…why couldn't she?_

_Destiny skidded to a halt in the middle of a clearing and spun to face her pursuer._

_It was Van Helsing as she had last seen him the night her secret had been divulged, coat dirty, weapons handy. He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched._

_"Destiny, what –" the lines of his figure blurred and shifted as Van Helsing morphed –_

_"What are you running from?"_

_– into Dracula. _

_Destiny scowled at him. "I'm not running from you, if that's what you mean."_

_Dracula looked amused. "You're not? How nice. So the last eleven years' absence was just a vacation?"_

_"That's not what I meant. I'm running from you, just not at this moment, except that I am…what I meant is…oh, you know what I mean!" She stomped her foot in exasperation._

_They stood in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other. Finally, Dracula broke the staring contest._

_"So, how is the family?" he asked, rather snidely. "Been anywhere interesting lately?"_

_Patches of pink bloomed on Destiny's cheeks. "Don't you patronize me!" she snapped. _

_"But, in a sense, I'm your patron my dear," Dracula remarked mildly. _

_Glaring at him, she retorted, "You're more like a cat playing with a mouse, going 'I'm not going to kill you yet…I'm not going to kill you yet…'. I resent being the mouse!"_

_"A mouse? You? There's nothing mousy about you, except for your size." _

_Destiny went to slap him, but he caught her hand easily and planted a light kiss on her palm. She tried to pull her hand away, but could not break his grip. Planting another kiss on her palm, he then moved to the inside of her wrist and began working his way up the inside of her forearm. Destiny's eyelids slowly closed, but only for the briefest of moments before she shook herself free of the spell he was weaving around her. _

_Yanking her hand away, she smacked him, and this time the blow landed squarely across his face. She could see a faint hand-shaped red mark bloom on Dracula's cheek._

Maybe I shouldn't have done that. _But the thought was ephemeral and vanished as quickly as it had come. She glared Dracula through narrowed eyes._

_"Haven't we been over this before?" she demanded. "I hate it when you try to mentally influence me, and besides, it usually doesn't work for very long anyway. Now get out of my dream and leave me alone."_

_Dracula stayed right where he was and, infuriatingly, merely quirked an eyebrow. "Come now," he said in mock reproof. "I cannot visit you?"_

_"No visits for eleven years and then twice in one month?" she retorted. "You might want to be careful, or someone might get the notion that you actually cared." _

_Dracula opened his mouth to respond, but Destiny couldn't hear a word he was saying. A roaring sound filled her ears, as if there were a whirlwind around her. The forest and Dracula dissolved into grey mist. There was power coming from somewhere; she could feel it like an ache at the base of her skull, getting more intense every moment. _

Who is that screaming? _the cool, detached part of her mind wondered. The screams, she realized, were coming from her own throat. A blindingly bright light burst into being in front of where she knelt and Destiny had to shade her eyes with both hands to make out, barely, the outline of a person at the center of the light. _

_The light suddenly dimmed to a mere glow, and Destiny was finally able to see who else had invaded her dream. Why couldn't she just sleep in peace? She tried pushing the person out of her mind. The image wavered, but held. Looking up to see just who was so persistent in their wish to disturb her, Destiny's eyes widened. She felt like she was looking at a male version…of herself. _

_He was tall with a lean, rather than muscular, frame. Large, white, feathered wings sprouted from his back, framing the length of his body until they reached the floor. Barefoot and dressed only in white pants, he seemed unabashed at standing in front of her half-naked. As if amused by her scrutiny, he raised an eyebrow at her and brushed a strand of his shoulder-length white hair out of his icy eyes with his pinky. The gesture was so reminiscent of Dracula that Destiny shuddered. _

_"Well, here you are," he remarked mildly. _

_Destiny did not bother masking her surprise. "Here I am?" She pondered the meaning of that simple phrase. There was a connection between her and this other angel, for an angel he undeniably was. She just wasn't sure what the connection was. _

_"Yes, I've been looking for you. For one who was once a mortal, you are surprisingly tricky to track down. And even now that I've made contact with you, your location eludes me."_

_"Whoa, hold on a second. You've been tracking me? You know I was once mortal? How do –"_

_He silenced her by putting a finger to his lips. "You have a pretty strong mind, and it will probably take a little while for me to physically locate you, but I will come." H turned to go. _

_"Wait!" Destiny cried, trying to stall his departure so that she could find out more of what he was about. "I…I don't even know your name!"_

_"Ambrose," he said simply, and left._

Destiny shot up in her tiny bed at the baker's, her pupils dilated wide in the darkness. Cold sweat beaded her forehead and temples. Something in her dream had bothered her, but she couldn't remember…

An angel. There had been an angel named Ambrose in her dream. An angel named Ambrose that was looking for her; had been looking for her for who knows how long. An angel she felt a connection to…

Destiny shook her head violently, effectively clearing all thoughts from her mind. She would try to figure it all out at a later time. Right now, she wanted some good, old-fashioned, uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

AN: Hmm, who do you think Ambrose is? What role will he play in this story? (I know already, but you don't, so I'll laugh. Heehee.) Please review! I live off of reviews. Any flames will be used to dry out my clothes after this rainstorm over my house finishes. 


	11. The Mystery of the Mirror

AN: Here's the next chapter my lovelies. Oh, and two bits of good news, as far as the story is concerned. Firstly, SCHOOL'S OUT! YAY! That obviously means more time to write (ie: no homework, tests, final exams, etc.). Secondly, my dad has stopped traveling so much for work, which means I can finally bounce ideas off of him again. Oh, and about this chapter? It's a wee bit confusing, I know it is. This was purposeful (ducks flying objects). I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but it is necessary, kay? Now shoo, go read. I mean it. Stop reading my ramblings. Stop it. Stop. Seriously. S-t-o-p means stop! (okay, I'll let you read now )

* * *

Chapter 10: The Mystery of the Mirror

Dracula winced slightly as he once more became conscious of his surroundings. Being forcibly removed from Destiny's mind always left him with a headache. He slowly rubbed his temples in a circular motion to dispel the ache. He had been so close to locating her general area…so close. And then she had to go be stubborn, typical of her, and kick him out.

Dracula paused. Yes, he had been kicked out, but this time it was…different. Usually when his angel forced him out the touch of her mind slowly faded away and then disappeared. This time, though, it had been at if an impenetrable wall had suddenly cut of the contact. Hence the headache. But the power behind the thrust was different as well, more powerful, and…vaguely familiar. Dracula scowled darkly.

It would seem as though a third player had entered their game. It was a turn of events he could have done without.

–

Ambrose paced the confines of the room he had built for himself in his mind. It was a place he often retreated to, where he mulled over the knottier problems pushed by those who dwelt on earth. And now it seemed as if Destiny was right in the middle of what would probably turn out to be a very knotty problem in the end.

He hadn't expected someone else to already be in her mind when he entered. It had taken quite a bit of effort to expel the other being, for who knew what it was, without giving himself away. At that, he wasn't even sure if that had been enough…well, what would be would be. And yet, he faintly recognized the other presence. From the brief sense he had gotten of the other's aura, he could detect the definite taint of vampirism. That in itself was not good, to say the least.

Ambrose sighed. He really didn't need a third player entering this "game".

–

Dracula's gaze roamed around the room and settled on something set up in front of a hanging mirror. His lips twitched upward in a small smile as he crossed the room and sat in front of the chess set, on the black side of course. The chess set. This particular game had been going on nigh on four hundred years and neither he nor his opponent had gained the upper hand, as of yet.

Dracula pushed a pawn forward a space, the first move he'd made on this particular board in eleven years. Over the four hundred years this game had been going on, he had lost only three pieces: two pawns and a rook. As the black king, he had moved little, preferring to send pawns out to test the waters and engage his opponent's higher pieces in a delicate dance. All these pieces were at his disposal, all these pieces were under his control.

Except one.

The black queen.

–

Ambrose left the sanctum of his mind and opened his eyes to the stone walls of the old abbey where he currently dwelled. He sighed as his gaze landed on the chess set across the room, set up in front of a mirror. Crossing the room, he sat down behind the white pieces. Only then did he notice the change. A black pawn had advanced one space, closing in on one of his bishops. So his opponent was at it again, was he?

Ambrose studied the layout of the board, connecting the dots that made up the complex web of moves and countermoves. It would take him at least a few months to decide how to respond to his opponent. But then again, perhaps not. There was always the chance that one of the pieces could jump the gun and take it upon themselves to try and intervene. As of now though, there was really only one piece he need worry about, as far as that matter went.

Just one.

The white queen.

–

The black queen. His most powerful piece. Dracula picked it up and turned the piece in his fingers. This piece of obsidian was the only one of its shape on his board. It was sculpted to look like a young woman with long hair, dressed in a simple robe, with feathered wings sprouting from her back. Yes, the only angel on his side of the board happened to be the most powerful player he had. With her, he could eventually checkmate his opponent. A frown marred Dracula's features. Yes, he could use her, but he could not depend on her.

–

The white queen. Ambrose studied his most powerful piece thoughtfully. The marble figurine was carved to resemble a young woman with long hair, dressed in a simple robe, with feathered wings sprouting from her back. She was not the only angel at his disposal; in fact, most of his higher pieces were angels. But this one was positioned in such a way that he could eventually checkmate his opponent more easily than if he used another piece. Sighing, Ambrose ran his finger over the smooth curve of her head. Use her he could, depend on her he could not.

–

The black queen was a rogue, a dangerous unknown, and at times, a liability. Her movements were erratic, sporadic, and tended to follow her own wishes rather than his manipulations. Yet he could not do without her. She was the fulcrum on which this game, this war, turned. It could easily have been someone else but, as Fate would have it, the war hung in a delicate balance with Destiny in the middle.

–

The white queen. He wished he knew where her loyalties lay. For reasons unknown to him, his little queen was erratic, unpredictable. She tended to move unexpectedly, in directions that seemed to follow no pattern or line of allegiance. But she was essential to the overall game plan. He had to use her, if the outcome of the war was to be as he wanted it, as he needed it. He hoped Fate would not have the last laugh, not when Destiny was on the line.

–

Destiny. His little spitfire, his angel. He had to find her somehow, and sooner, rather than later, now that someone else had also touched her mind. He had his suspicions about who that someone might be, and none of the choices were to his liking.

–

Destiny. Since the moment she'd been born, he'd been searching for her, with no success. Trying to find one mind among millions was a difficult task to say the least. But he had found her at last and would have to make his next move relatively soon. He could not let her fall to the vampires, for that was who he suspected had been in her mind before he arrived.

–

Angels were a constant nuisance, he decided as he put the queen back where she had been. He would have to…to…what? Kill them? That was the crux of the matter and needed to be dealt with.

–

Vampires were unnatural and vicious, to say the least, he thought as he rose from his seat. They must not be allowed to gain the upper hand. But how to prevent them from doing so?

–

A devious smile graced his lips. Yes, the matter needed to be dealt with, and he was already working on that.

–

His expression was thoughtful. He was trying to deal with the matter, but was not sure how his idea was working out.

–

Glancing in the mirror across from him, he smirked. No reflection existed to mirror that action.

–

Turning his head, he looked into the mirror behind the chessboard. Finding no answers in the complete emptiness of the room it reflected, he turned away.

* * *

Now, review! Reviews make the world go 'round, dontcha know. And cookies. (gives out cookies to loyal read-and-reviewers). 


	12. To Run No More

Chapter 11: To Run No More

AN: This is the replacement of the old chapter 11. Same title, same first half, but the second half is new. So, the two halves combine to form a regular chapter instead of two short ones. I know Destiny's decision is rather sudden, but then again, it was basically an "Ah-ha!" moment for her. Sudden realization, yada yada yada and all that jazz. Next chapter should be up within the next few days. Ciao!

* * *

Destiny's eyelids opened slowly, but not lazily or effortlessly. On the contrary, each felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Her sleep last night had not been restful in the least, not at all. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she checked the position of the sun through the room's single window. It was already high in the sky, well past her normal wake-up time. With a burst of adrenaline, she flung herself out of bed, scrambled to the door…and paused.

Why was she rushing? Until she was sure that Van Helsing was gone, there were no chores to do. No cooking, no cleaning, no nothing, for her hosts had made it absolutely clear last night that she was not to exert herself in any way, shape, or form. Destiny gave an unladylike snort. More likely they wanted to make sure that she didn't contaminate their things with her abnormality –

No. It was unkind of her to think so of them.

A cautious tap at her door shook her out of her thoughts. Kassia, most likely. Rinska would have knocked and then barged right in, with nary a care as to whether the occupant of the room wanted a visitor or not. The stout wooden door opened to reveal Kassia, just as she had predicted.

"Mother? Oh," she smiled in relief when she saw that her mother was up, "You're awake. Good."

Destiny frowned slightly. "Why is that, dear?"

"Sven wants to talk to you. He's downstairs, but said not to wake you. Except, well, you're up now."

"Well, tell him that I'm coming down," she replied calmly, her voice betraying none of the nervousness she was feeling. Kassia nodded and left. Smoothing the worst of the wrinkles out of the dress she'd fallen asleep in, Destiny followed her.

Sven was waiting down in the baker's kitchen, keeping Rinska and Darryl company. He looked up as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Kassia was first, he could tell by the quick, light tapping of her feet as she hurried down. Her steps were followed by the slower, more sedate footfalls of her mother.

Sven rose and met Destiny as she entered the room, a sympathetic and concerned look on his face. Her blue eyes were slightly bloodshot, her hair mussed, and she was pale, even for her. He took her hands in his, felt them shaking, and led her into the next room, away from prying ears. Destiny just looked at him, hope and fear warring for control of her face.

"And?" she asked nervously, dreading the answer.

"He left," Sven assured her. "He's gone."

"Well," she sighed, "that's one load off my shoulders." However, contrary to her words, she couldn't have looked more tense.

"Destiny?"

She was silent. He gave her shoulders a little shake. "Destiny? What's wrong?"

Her gaze drifted over his shoulder to fixate on the wall as she replied, "Nothing that you need to be concerned about, yet." Pulling away, she hurried back up to the room she was currently occupying, leaving Sven to ponder the meaning behind those ominous words.

No sooner was she safe within the small confines of the room than Destiny burst into tears. What was she going to do? Dracula had touched her mind twice in the past month; that meant that he was getting a fix, however vague, on her location.

And now?

Now someone else was searching for her, an angel no less! And from what he said, he'd been searching for her for far longer that she and Dracula had even know each other. Why had this angel been searching for her? What did he want from her?

She froze. Was it possible, and Destiny dearly hoped it wasn't, that he had known early that she possessed angel blood? The prospect was…terrifying. If he found her and her children, he would see their differences. If the cardinals at the Vatican had had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that an angel would carry the children of a vampire, how much more appalling would that be to a full angel?

What would he do?

Would he –

Destiny shook herself violently in a desperate attempt to stop her thoughts from snowballing. There was only one hope for it: she would have to up and leave, again. Find somewhere else with a high demonic concentration, somewhere where they wouldn't be able to find her. But…

She paused, thoughtful. If they both could find her here, then there was nowhere on earth that they would not find her eventually. Was she willing to run, forever? It was a daunting prospect, to say the least. How many times would she be willing to throw away the life she had struggled to build for them, simple because she had gotten spooked? Was she that much of a coward?

No, thought Destiny with sudden resolve.

No more running.

Ever.

She was not going to go deliberately looking for trouble but if either of them, or someone else, found her, then they would soon learn the error of their ways. She was no pawn to be toyed with, no minion to be pushed around according to someone else's whims. She was her own person, and with God as her witness, no one was going to harm her children while she drew breath.

The Wiebke family returned to their home the next day; Destiny didn't wish to take advantage of her hosts' hospitality now that her immediate problem was solved. Walking through the homely front door of the cottage, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling and savoring the familiar smells of the house. Yes, she thought, this was definitely worth fighting for.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the force of three eleven-year-old bodies racing past her through the hall, each eager to make sure that their things were undisturbed. However, there were some new additions.

For Kassia, Van Helsing had left a slim dagger along with a sheath that fitted, with some adjustment, onto the outside of her thigh without causing a large, conspicuous lump in her skirt.

Darryl received a gun make of a shiny dark wood and a case of silver bullets – "just in case", the attached note said.

But it was Rinska's gift that made Destiny's breath catch when the excited girl showed it to her. She had been given a pair of knives with silver blades. That alone was special enough, but it was to the handles that particular attention had been given. One hilt was made of ivory with an inlaid scene of clouds and angels – Heaven. The other was ebony, with an inlay of fire and demons – Hell.

Rinska did not realize it at the time, but she held knives that were obviously custom-made and worth a small fortune. Destiny privately wondered why Van Helsing had parted with them. Was it because he had seen her as the most mixed of the children? Certainly, it was symbolic of her heritage.

"Mother?" asked Rinska, having given her mother ample time (in her mind) to look at the knives.

Destiny turned to regard her daughter with a mildly quizzical expression. "Yes?"

"Van Helsing cared for us, didn't he?"

Destiny smiled, a bit wistfully. "Yes Rinska, he did. Though he did not know us for very long, I believe he cared for us very much."

"Then, why did he leave?"

"He had to sweetie. We are not the only people in the world who could use his protection, so he was needed elsewhere."

Rinska looked as if she might have some choice remark to make, but for once held her tongue. She retreated to the back hall to examine her siblings' presents more closely.

Destiny turned and entered the kitchen, to start making lunch, her brain turning around in circles over past, present, and future courses of action.

* * *

_Months passed. Month after month Destiny would live always looking over her shoulder, always sleeping with one eye open, always wary. At any moment, she expected Dracula or Ambrose to materialize and trouble to begin. Consequently, she ordered a small armory from the blacksmith. Some of the weapons, mostly the silver knives, were for her personal use. The rest went to her children in the form of birthday presents. Sven stayed in the home with them and she welcomed his familiar, and protective, presence. However, after a few years with no trouble, even he too had to move on. Destiny didn't blame him at all. He had to get on with his own life, mortal as he was. By staying with them as long as he had, he had done more than enough. One year flowed into another, and then another. Pretty soon, eight years had passed._

* * *


	13. Collecting Shells

Chapter 12: Collecting Shells

AN: If you haven't done so already, please go back and re-read the last chapter. I added to it, so it's a full-length chapter now instead of a short one. If you've already done that, then read on. (I feel like an over-the-phone directory: "For instructions in English, press 1")

* * *

A young woman walked down the path from her house to the beach, whistling a jaunty tune that she made up as she went along. It was early morning, with the sun just barely peeping up over the ocean, as if it were loathe to ascend into the sky. There was barely enough light for a normal person to see by, but this didn't bother Rinska in the slightest. She had always been able to seen well in the dark, a trait that had saved her life probably half a dozen times in the past few years.

Rinska dropped to the sand and began to stretch out her muscles. She smiled as she recalled that her first teacher, Van Helsing, had always made them stretch before training. At the time she had grumbled about it, not seeing why they had to bother stretching and why couldn't they start working with weapons _now_? Now, of course, she could see the sense in it. If you let yourself get out of shape physically, then no amount of training would be able to save your life.

If Van Helsing were there right then, he wouldn't have recognized the scrawny scrap of a child he remembered in the young woman on the beach. At nearly 20, Rinska was as tall as she was ever going to get, which wasn't saying much, though she was a bit taller than her mother. She kept her white hair cut in a chin-length bob for practicality's sake; long hair and fighting definitely didn't mix well, as she had found out the hard way. Her clothes were equally practical: well-worn black boots, form-fitting black pants, and a plain white blouse.

Sand shifted behind her, so softly that even Rinska's finely tuned ears could barely pick up the sound. But they did. On the pretense of bending over to stretch her hamstrings, she stealthily drew one of her twin knives out of its sheath. Judging the distance of the person behind her, she spun and stabbed upward. Her thrust was blocked by another blade, so she grabbed her other knife and made a swipe at their side. That move scored a hit. The other person swore vividly, using very familiar phrases. Rinska sprang backwards.

"Darryl!" She scowled at her brother, who had one hand pressed to his side in an attempt to stop his wound from bleeding. He grinned at her.

"Well, I'll say this for you: you've got good reflexes." And he laughed openly at the look of outrage on his younger sibling's face.

" 'You've got good reflexes'!" cried Rinska. She smacked him upside his head.

"Hey! Don't you thing you've wounded me enough?"

"I could have killed you, you dolt!"

Darryl grinned recklessly. "Ah, but you didn't, and that's all that concerns me right now. Besides, do you think so little of my ability to protect myself?" He feigned a look of hurt and slowly Rinska's anger gave way to good-natured exasperation.

"Well, don't even test your luck next time, longshanks." And she reached up to give his ponytail a tug for good measure.

"Aye, you never know when luck will run out. It tends to do so at inopportune times," came an unfamiliar voice from down the beach.

Startled, Rinska had spun about and flung her knife before she even realized what she was doing. With a gasp, she ran after it, praying it wouldn't find its target. It would have too, except for the fact that the old man she'd aimed at had bent over at that exact moment to pick up a shell lying on the sand.

He looked over at the knife where it stood, buried up to it's hilt not ten feet from him. "Hmm. You have good reflexes," he remarked, straightening and walking over to retrieve it for her.

"So I've been told," Rinska replied, with a glance in her brother's direction. She studied the man. He looked harmless enough, maybe about 70 years old, with wisps of white hair about his temples, small rectangular spectacles perched on his nose, and lots of laugh-lines about his eyes and mouth.

He handed her knife back and she sheathed it. After that, he returned to collecting shells, apparently not taking any more notice of the two siblings. Rinska and Darryl exchanged a glance and shrugged simultaneously. It was Darryl who ventured to say something further.

"Sir?" The man ignored him, so he tried a little louder.

"Sir?"

"Eh?" The man turned to peer at him.

"Are you looking for something, or can we help you with something?"

"Not unless you can bring back the dead or find the lost." The man sighed, and Rinska and Darryl sensed a story behind his apparently aimless shell collecting. Rinska crouched beside him. He seemed to be in his own world, only vaguely aware of their presence.

"I've been travelling for nearly forty years trying to find my daughter. Her mother is dead and I am the only family she has left. Unfortunately," he sighed, "I do not know where she is."

"Why don't you know?" Rinska probed softly.

"When her mother was pregnant, I was called away on business. I didn't anticipate being gone for as long as I was. But when I returned, she was gone. It took me years to find her again, and shortly after I did, she died. She never told me where my daughter was. I don't even know if she knew by then. After her death, I started searching for my daughter, but trying to find one certain person in a whole country is very difficult indeed. But I have a feeling I am getting close. Just a gut feeling."

Rinska exchanged a look with her brother behind the man's back.

'Darryl…'

'No Rinska.'

'He needs somewhere to stay. You know Mother wouldn't object.'

'And how, pray tell, do you know what Mother would and wouldn't object to?'

'Um…because she's my mother? Duh.'

'She's my mother too.'

'Give him a chance. The worst thing she can do is say no and then he's not any worse off than he was before, now is he?'

Darryl sighed mentally. His sister did have a point. 'Fine.'

"Do you need a place to stay while you search? Or take a rest from searching? I can't imagine that such arduous travel is good for anyone's health, especially as winter is coming," Rinska offered. "You could stay with our family, if you wish."

The old man smiled at her gratefully, revealing a couple missing teeth. "That would be much appreciated."

"Follow us then. We live just off the beach." Darryl led the way while Rinska made polite conversation with their new companion.

"My name is Rinska Wiebke and my brother is Darryl. What are you called sir?"

"My name is Giotto," he replied.

Destiny and Kassia were finishing the task of labeling the newly cut herbs when the front door opened.

"Perfect timing, as usual," called Kassia teasingly. "Coming home just when the chores are done."

"There's always chores to do," Darryl complained good-naturedly, rounding the corner. "Mother, there's someone Rinska and I would like you to meet." Briefly, and telepathically, he explained the situation.

"Of course he can stay," Destiny exclaimed, surprised that they would doubt her willingness to assist. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried into the hall. Offering her hand, she introduced herself.

"I'm Destiny Wiebke," she said. Giotto shook her hand with unexpected firmness for one his age.

"A pleasure to meet you, Madam."

Destiny brushed off the formality. "Pft. If you are to be sharing our house, we really must dispense with the formalities. It's just Destiny."

"As I am Giotto."

Destiny nodded, smiling. "Darryl, why don't you get Giotto situated in the guest room." She looked out the window. "I have something I need to attend to. If I'm not mistaken, Marcus has gone and broken his arm, again."

As they headed towards the back of the house, Giotto asked Darryl, "Why would someone come to your mother with a broken arm? Surely the average woman here has at least a basic knowledge of healing."

Darryl nodded. "It's true they do, but Mother is the town's healer/midwife. She's better at these sorts of things." What he neglected to say was that his mother obviously wanted Giotto out of the way while she did her special healing. The less opportunity he was given to ask questions, the better. So, that being the case, he took a little longer that normal to get their guest settled in. When he could not delay any longer for fear of looking suspicious, they returned.

"Marcus is gone," Destiny said, without turning from her cleaning. More to herself she muttered, "And I better not seen him for a month at least. It took my long enough to repair damage this time."

Kassia, who was busy sewing, looked over at Giotto to see if he had heard that remark, which had been a bit indiscreet. What she saw did not reassure her. If anything, it unnerved her.

Giotto was staring intensely at her mother, who was oblivious, with a disturbing gleam in his eye. As if he sensed her watching him, he glanced at her. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Kassia looked away, unable to hold that burning gaze for any longer.

* * *

AN: Hmm, who is Giotto? (I know, heehee) Does anyone know what the name Giotto means? (yes, it does actually mean something in the real world) Review? Pretty please with a Dracula plushie on top? I really like reading what people think of the story so far and their predictions of what's to come. 


	14. Who is Giotto?

Chapter 13: Who Is Giotto?

AN: I am proud to announce that, as of Friday the 14th, I am officially 17 years of age. Wow. It's been a little over two years since I started "A Girl Called Destiny" and I never thought that I would make it to a sequel! I privately thought, when I first posted it, that it would attract some attention, but not enough to make me write another installment. Boy was I wrong, and now look! A sequel that looks to be longer than the first story, and lovely little readers that actually review! (does the happy author dance) Oh, and the name "Giotto" means 'immortal' (at least according to the Oxygen babynamer). Apparently, according to some reviewers, it was also the name of a famous Pre-Renaissance Italian painter. Who knew? Guess you learn something new every day. Now, I'll stop rambling and let you get on with this chapter. I promise you'll hate me at the end. (grins evilly)

* * *

Kassia lay awake late into the night, pondering the meaning of what transpired that morning. Questions ran circles around her mind, each more difficult to answer than the last. Just who was Giotto? Why was he here in Pelagia? Was he telling the truth about his past? She doubted it. What was his connection to her mother (for she was sure there was one)? Did he know her from before she and her siblings were born? But that couldn't be it, because her mother hadn't shown any signs of recognizing him. Just who was Giotto?

Around two in the morning, Kassia gave up trying to answer these questions herself. The only way to do so, she realized, would be with outside information. Giotto had met Rinska and Darryl on the beach; the closest path to the beach, besides the one by their house, led from town. An old man, even one who'd been traveling for as long as he claimed to have been, would have limits on how far he could travel. It had also been early morning when they met him. He would have had to spend the night somewhere close by.

Another question pushed its way forward. Where were his possessions? When you were traveling a lot, you would either take all you had or take the minimum you would need to survive. Either way, you had to have something, which he didn't appear to unless he was hiding it under his coat.

A painfully obvious solution occurred to Kassia. Giotto had left his possessions wherever he had spent the night! Why didn't she think of it before?

_Because you were so fixated on the idea that something is off about him_, a nasty little voice of doubt whispered in her mind.

_But something _is _off about him_, she told herself. She knew there was no way she had misinterpreted that Look earlier. However, better to investigate and discover nothing unusual than to do nothing and have her family come to harm.

She finally drifted off to sleep around three and was up before anyone else in the house stirred. Dressing quietly, Kassia padded softly down the hall, peeking into each room she passed. Rinska was sprawled on her stomach in her bed, effectively tangled in her sheets as usual and Darryl was sleeping quietly. Just to be safe, she left Giotto's room alone.

Passing by her mother's room, Kassia could hear her tossing and turning. In an attempt to soothe her, she reached into her mother's mind and promptly withdrew. Gasping, she leaned against the wall to steady herself. She had not been prepared for the whirlwind of emotions present in her mother's dream. Rage, despair, longing; it was too intense for Kassia's meager abilities to help.

The first place in town that Kassia thought to look in was the tavern. It was a good source of gossip, some of which was actually true, if you knew where to listen. If anyone had heard about Giotto, she would probably find them there. Sidling up to the bar, she hailed the bartender. He was a portly man in his mid-fifties who was going bald in an unfortunate way, losing the hair on his crown in clumps, which gave his head the appearance of a field gone to weeds. He was surprised to see Kassia there, to say the least. Usually it was her siblings who frequented his establishment.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

Kassia smiled innocently. "Well Jakob, we have a guest at our house. Giotto? Have you heard of him?"

Jakob frowned thoughtfully. "Older man? With glasses?"

"That's him."

"Yeah, I've heard of him. Haven't met him personally though, so I can't tell you much about him. You might want to try some of the others in here if you want information."

"Thank you," she replied politely.

Afternoon saw Kassia heading back home, unsure how her mother would react to her findings, or lack thereof. Pushing open the door she thought, _Here it goes_.

"Mother?"

Destiny looked up from her book and smiled. "What is it Kassia?"

Kassia unconsciously twisted her hands behind her, like she used to do as a little girl when she got in trouble. "Can I speak with you in your room?"

Destiny rose gracefully and put her book of a small table. "Of course Kassia." They both went into Destiny's room, shutting the door behind them. Destiny sank onto the bed and watched her daughter, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind. Taking a deep breath, Kassia said, "I've got a bad feeling about Giotto."

Her mother looked puzzled. "Why?" She respected her children's instincts for these sort of things, but Giotto did not have a vampiric aura.

"I can't say what sparked it, but you have to admit that there are a lot of questions about him that don't have answers. For instance, why is he here? He said he was looking for his daughter, but we know all the people in town and none of them are missing a father. So if that's true, then why is he here and why is he lying about his reason for being here?" Placing her hands on her hips, she looked questioningly at her mother as if trying to prompt her to respond. When her mother didn't say anything, she continued.

"I asked around at the tavern to see if anyone there had met him or knew anything about him; you know what gossips they are. But, the funny thing is, no one could tell me anything about him, not even where he spent the night. No one saw him enter town; he was just there one day."

"Kassia –"

"And did you notice how he never calls his wife by her name? He always says 'her mother'. Why is that?"

"Kassia –"

"And where are his possessions? Even if he'd left them somewhere, wouldn't he want to go get them –"

"Kassia!"

Kassia fell silent at the commending tone in her mother's voice. She had a feeling that she was angering her. Her mother leveled a serious gaze at her.

"Kassia, are you prying into his past?" Kassia said nothing, but Destiny noticed a slightly guilty look on her face and was appalled. Her feelings must have shown on her face, for Kassia opened her mouth, obviously to defend her actions. Destiny cut her off.

"You have no right to pry into his past," she said brusquely.

"But –"

"Some people have thing in their past that they don't want others finding out about, very private matters! I sense no evil from him and I doubt he'd appreciate you prying into his private affairs. What happened to him is his business and no one else's. If he feels inclined to share, then that's his prerogative." Kassia privately wondered if her mother was even talking about Giotto anymore.

Destiny couldn't believe the audacity of her daughter, invading someone's privacy like that. Because of her own highly unusual past, she knew that _she'd_ be furious if anyone started poking their nose where it didn't belong. She had to stop this now before it went too far.

"I don't want to have this conversation again, do you hear me?"

Nodding her submission, Kassia left the room. Why wouldn't her mother listen? She trusted her own instincts too much sometimes. Why couldn't she event attempt to trust her daughter's? Her mother was smart, but not infallible. Everyone made mistakes sometimes. She'd just have to search until she found indisputable evidence that something was wrong. And she'd start now.

Leaving the house, Kassia headed back to town. There was one other place that would be likely to hold information: the inn. The landlady was, well, she was as close to a friend as her mother had and would be willing to give any information she had, for the sake of keeping Destiny's healing services. Her son, though grown now, was no less apt to break something now than he was when he was younger.

The landlady, Emma, smiled at her when she entered. "What can I do for you Kassia?"

Kassia, taking a gamble, said, "I didn't know if you had anything that belonged to Giotto? He's staying at our house and mentioned that he had left his things. Trouble is, he didn't mention where he had left them." She smiled disarmingly and shrugged. "I just wanted to get them for him.

Emma brushed a strand of her graying hair out of her face. "Isn't that nice of you. Yes, he stayed here last night. I can take you to the room he stayed in, though I'm not sure if he left anything in there." She climbed the stairs and Kassia followed, feeling a sense of triumph. Finally, she was getting somewhere.

"This was his room." Unlocking the door, Emma left her alone. Kassia closed the door behind her and surveyed the room. There was no window, but an oil lamp on a small table illuminated the whole room well enough. A plainly made single bed was pushed against the wall and a chest for clothing sat on the floor on the opposite wall. There was no bundle that she could see out in plain sight, but something sticking out from under the bed caught her eye. She dropped to her knees and pulled it out. It was a small handheld mirror.

_That's odd_, thought Kassia as she frowned at it. _Why would a mirror be under the bed?_

Putting it on the bedside table next to the lamp, she noticed something else odd. A mirror hung on the wall by the door. That in itself was not unusual, but this mirror was covered by a piece of cloth.

_Curious, very curious_. She ran her hand around the edges of the mirror, wondering.

Destiny sat in her room for a little while after Kassia left. Finally, a rumbling in her stomach reminded her that dinnertime was drawing near and she'd better have something ready soon. Down the hall she went towards the front of the house. Upon entering the living room, she saw Giotto sitting in a chair, reading. About to greet him, she froze, her whole body going tense, what little color she possessed draining from her face.

Behind Giotto was a mirror that reflected the room, including the chair he was sitting in and the book he was reading. However, there was no one sitting in the mirror-chair, no one holding the mirror-book.

Giotto had no reflection.

Destiny yelped in surprise and fear. Giotto looked up at her, startled, and Destiny did the first thing that came to her mind: she grabbed a vase of flowers off the table and launched it at his head. For an old man, he had quick reflexes and speedily vacated the chair. The vase shattered against the mirror, right where his head would have been.

It only took that brief moment of his distraction for Destiny to tug the only silver stake she had with her out of her sleeve and plunge it into his heart.

But to her horror, he didn't crumbled into dust. Instead, Giotto merely flicked his eyes down to where the stake protruded from his chest and then looked her squarely in the eye, a small smirk on his face.

"Is this…_your_ silver stake?"

* * *

AN: Gasp. Can it be…? 


	15. The War

Chapter 14: The War

AN: Nothing much to say this time, except that I will use any flames from furious readers to roast marshmallows, which will then be combined with graham crackers and chocolate to make s'mores. I will take my leave. (bows and retreats hastily to the safety of her room)

* * *

_Dracula steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. It was frustrating how elusive his angel was, how long she had managed to evade him even after he'd contacted her mind. He smiled at the memory. No matter how hard she tried, Destiny just couldn't resist him, at least for a long period of time. He sighed. No matter what some might believe, he missed her. Marishka and Aleera had been complaining lately that he wasn't paying as much attention to them as _they _thought he should. Verona kept her opinions wisely to herself and he privately thanked her for that. There were times when he deeply regretted turning his younger two brides, what with their constant demands for attention. _

_Destiny had never been like that. In fact, she'd been just the opposite, pushing him away as long and as often as she could. Frustrating, yes, but her emotions…her emotions made it all worthwhile. He was able to feel again, at least for brief moments. Dracula shook himself forcefully from his thoughts. There was no use dwelling on what had been. The only way to regain what he sought was to stay on top of his opponent. _

_He walked over to the chessboard and paused. Now _that _was interesting. The white _king _had moved himself. That in itself was intriguing, but then Dracula noticed that the black queen had gone and answered with a move of her own. _

_Check. _

* * *

Destiny backed away from Giotto in horror. "Vladislaus," she breathed, dumbstruck. How could she have not sensed this? She always knew when he was near, always! Why did the mind-bond fail her this time?

Her racing thoughts were cut abruptly short when Giotto calmly pulled the stake out of his chest, seemingly unbothered by the blood that was rapidly staining his shirt.

Wait.

Blood?

"Who, no, _what_ the hell are you?" Destiny cried. Dracula didn't bleed if you stabbed him.

"Well, which do you want to know Destiny? Who, or what?" Giotto asked as he placed a hand over the wound. Light gathered around his hand and the bleeding slowed, then stopped altogether as the tissue was knit back together. Destiny's eyes went as wide as saucers. Having used that light many a time, she knew very well what it was.

"Y-you're an angel?"

"I knew you were a smart girl," replied Giotto amiably, as if there were nothing unusual about this conversation or what had led to it.

"Wait a second…" Something niggled at the back of her mind. Giotto…she had heard that name before, but a variation…Ambrogiotto, that's what it was. Ambrogiotto, which was similar to –

"Ambrose!" The name came out as a half strangled exclamation. Ambrose's smiled widened.

"See? You knew the answers to your questions, no need to have asked me."

Destiny was torn between smacking that infuriating smile off his face and satisfying her curiosity. She opted for the latter.

"Why are you here? And could you please assume your real form? Looking as a false identity and knowing it's false is creepy." No sooner had she said that than Ambrose's figure began to glow and shift. It made Destiny a little queasy to see someone's body change like that. When the glow faded, Ambrose stood in the middle of her living room in all his ethereal glory, wings included.

He opened his mouth, but whatever he had been about to say was effectively cut off by the sound of the front door banging open, heralding Kassia's return. The sight of this white-haired, winged man in her living room stopped her in her tracks and she simple stood there in the hall, gaping.

"Mother, who is that?" she finally managed to say. Her mother turned her head a little in Kassia's direction while still keeping the stranger in her line of sight. Observation number one: her mother didn't trust him.

"Kassia, this is Ambrose. You know him better as Giotto." Kassia's brain nearly exploded with the questions that that simple phrase provoked. She opted for the simplest and most pressing:

"How?"

"How what?" Ambrose seemed amused. "How did I get here? How did I –"

"How did you look like an old man when you're clearly not?" Kassia demanded, in one of her rare displays of temper. She was in no mood for his flippant attitude.

With a rustle of feathers, Ambrose's wings melted into his back, allowing him to sit comfortably in the chair he had previously occupied.

"It's something all angels can do, change their appearance. If you will excuse me, I need to speak to your mother privately."

"And just what do you need to say to me that's so secret and important that you can't speak of it in front of my daughter?" Now it was Destiny's turn to demand an answer of him. Ambrose's mind noted that amusing resemblance between mother and child as he sighed, rose, and, taking Destiny by the arm, led her to her room while ignoring her indignant protests.

Once they were in her room and the door shut, Ambrose finally tuned in to what Destiny was saying.

"– dare you just –" She was effectively silenced by Ambrose's hand over her mouth. Destiny was tempted to bite his thumb.

"Are you quite finished with your ranting?"

"Not by half. I'll give you the other half after you tell me why you so rudely dragged me in here."

Gracefully lowering herself onto the bed, Destiny motioned for Ambrose to take a seat in the room's only chair. He did so, and they sat, simply staring at each other, with Destiny waiting for Ambrose to start and Ambrose trying to decide what to tell her. Finally, fed up with his reluctance to speak, Destiny broke the silence with a question of her own, one that had been preying on her mind.

"Why do you have no reflection?"

Ambrose looked puzzled. "Why would I _have_ a reflection? Angels don't have them."

Destiny gave an unladylike snort of disbelief. "That's a lie and we both know it. I'm an angel and I have a reflection."

"No," said Ambrose patiently, as if explaining to a very slow person. "You are a hybrid. A half-angel, half-human. Human genes are dominant, angel genes are recessive, so you have a reflection."

"Actually, I'm about 99.5 angel, 0.5 human," she corrected him. He frowned.

"That's not how it's supposed to be."

"Well that's how it is." Destiny was matter-of-fact, and hoped he would drop the matter. She really didn't feeling like explaining how she got to be the way that she was. However, Ambrose was not willing to let it go unexplained.

"Why is that?" he questioned, leaning forward in the chair. Destiny decided to summarize. Really summarize.

"I had a run-in with a vampire when I was younger and he bit me. My angel blood saved me by purging the poison." Her tone said 'and that was that'. Ambrose decided to pick this fight later, when he'd have a better chance of winning, so he returned to the reflection question.

"Pure-blood angels don't reflect in mirror, or anything else for that matter."

"Why?" It seemed like a logical question to Destiny, but Ambrose looked away. He was reluctant to broach this certain subject with her. Instead, he answered her question with a question of his own.

"What do you know of the War?" He was rewarded with a blank look.

"What war?"

"The war between Good and Evil. Between God and the Devil. Between angels and vampires."

* * *

AN: Ah, so now we begin to thicken the plot…and it only gets thicker from here. 


	16. The Void

Chapter 15: The Void

AN: Hey guys. I know it's a bit early for an update, but I'm leaving this Saturday for a week on vacation and even though I'll have computer access, I don't know if I'll be able to get on the Net. So therefore, I thought I'd post before I left and give you something new to read while I'm gone. Maybe I'll have a little pile of reviews to look forward to when I get home. Maybe not, as I only got around 3 for the last chapter (cries and goes off to sing the "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me" worm song)

* * *

Destiny just stared at Ambrose for a few moments before letting out an incredulous laugh. "You do know how over-done and stereotypical that sounds, don't you? People have been writing about the 'Battle between Good and Evil' since…well, for a long time. I think you're a little behind on the creativity, don't you think?"

"Human have been writing about this war for so long because it has been going on for a longer period of time than they've been aware of. The war was first. The stories came after," said Ambrose earnestly.

"How long has this war been going on? 400 years or so? Because that's how long vampires have been around."

That statement unsettled Ambrose, because he picked up on the fact that she was insinuating that the vampiric race had begun with Dracula. How would she know of Dracula?

"I'm afraid you are mistaken Destiny. Four-hundred years ago was when the second 'wave', so to speak, of vampires came into being. Before then, vampires had been around for about 3,000 years, give or take a century. The last ones were killed in 1451."

"So why didn't the war end then?" Though she already knew the answer.

Ambrose sighed. It seemed as though he would have to reveal the identity of his opponent sooner than he would have liked. He hadn't counted on Destiny being so inquisitive and insightful.

"In 1462, a man named Vladislaus Dragulia was murdered. He did not want to die and go to Heaven, for reasons we don't know, and so he went to the Devil instead. The Devil had been trying to figure out for eleven years how to restart the race of the vampires. When Dracula came to him, he saw his chance to make a new race of vampires, a better race. Dracula became the First Vampire of the Second Race. All vampires that exist today carry some trace of his blood."

"Oh" was all Destiny could think of to say. Dracula had neglected to mention _that_ bit of history to her. Typical of him. He never really told her much about his world, so all she knew was what she had researched herself.

"How do you know of Dracula?"

The question caused Destiny to freeze, the blood in her veins turning to ice. This was not good, not good at all. She was careful to control her reaction, lest Ambrose sense that something was amiss.

"What do you mean?" she inquired innocently, but not _too_ innocently.

"You implied that the vampiric race began 400 years ago. The only significant event in the war was the Turning of Dracula. Therefore, logic says that you know of him. How?" Ambrose fixed her with a hard stare, which Destiny forced herself to meet and hold.

She shrugged and, going out on a limb, said, "I've come across a few books of lore in my time. I visited the Vatican and they had some books there too. I came across a passage that mentioned him."

Ambrose dismissed that reference with a wave of his hand. "Books written by mortals rarely contain that which is not already common knowledge." An idea struck him. If he could get her curiosity piqued about Dracula, then maybe he would have the leverage needed to get her close to him. Yes, that might work.

"So then tell me something that isn't common knowledge," Destiny challenged, a gleam in her eyes. "Like, for example, how has Dracula's Turning changed this war you're talking about."

Ambrose couldn't believe how easily this was playing right into his hands. Affecting a thoughtful look, he replied, "Well, that's the trouble. We, the angels, don't really know."  
"Four hundred year and you still don't know what his Turning changed?" She was not impressed.

"Think what you like about us, but we have been trying. I'm trying to find out how to get information about him. If there was only a way I could get someone close to him –"

He was cut off in mid-sentence by Kassia's scream of "Rinska! Darryl!" Destiny sprang up from her seat and was out the door before the sound died away. Ambrose followed close behind her.

Kassia was standing in front of the house, her attention riveted on some scene that was playing itself out at the edge of the forest. Ambrose could see the sunlight reflecting off of steel and could hear the unearthly roar of a demon.

Rinska heard the bones in her arm break as the demon grabbed the blade of her sword and pushed it away from itself, causing her arm to bend in an unnatural direction. She cursed fluently as her sword went spinning out of her reach. However, this event proved to have a silver lining, in that Darryl was able to take advantage of the demon's distraction and plunge two of his daggers into the back of its neck. The demon dropped, bleeding profusely, and Darryl hacked off its head, spattering them both in blood that burned.

"Cut out its heart!" Rinska yelled. Darryl was already seeing to that task when he encountered a dilemma.

"Which one? The bloody thing had two of them!"

"Both, I guess. Quick! Before it regenerates!"

Darryl looked at her dubiously, even as he started the messy task. "Regenerate a head?"

"I wouldn't put it past that thing," she replied ominously. Decapitated and heartless, the demon dissolved into a pile of mush. Darryl helped his sister up, as she was incapable of doing on her own at the time. Her wing feathers rustled as she rose. It had been necessary to have the advantage of flight when hunting this time. Together, brother and sister began to make their way back to the house. Kassia met them halfway.

"You're a bloody mess, you know that right?" As both their clothes were rather the worse for wear, covered in dirt and blood, Rinska and Darryl burst out laughing. Kassia chuckled too and the three of them made their way into the house, where Destiny promptly pulled Rinska into her room to heal her arm.

Ambrose hung back, noticing something that deeply disturbed him. Rinska and Darryl had had their wings out after their battle, but neither sported the white wings of an angel, as he would have expected. Yes, Rinska's were feathered, but both sets were black and Darryl's looked…vampiric. He suddenly had the chilling feeling that he wasn't as in control of the situation as he thought. This was something to confront Destiny about, and soon.

Before he could turn and follow the group into the house, he was assailed by a ferocious, pounding headache. Migraine would have been a better term for it.

* * *

_Dracula was descending the stairs when he stopped short, grabbing his head in his hands as he was assaulted by the worst headache he'd ever had. No, not a headache, a migraine. _

* * *

As abruptly as it had come, the pain stopped. Ambrose got the feeling that something had gone terrible wrong. He entered the house and immediately sought the confines of his room. Settling himself in a chair, he retreated into the realm of his mind.

What he sought was sitting out on a table in front of a mirror. The chessboard had a few changes that had been made to it since his last move. He had been placed in check by the black queen. That was odd. He had had no dealings recently with anyone of the race of vampires. And even more disturbing…

In the middle of the board, where there should have been a square comprised of four individual squares, there was only a void. A pawn had been there last, as he recalled, but he couldn't remember whose it had been. There was no way to tell either, as he could not see through the darkness of that area.

Things were not going as planned. He was going to have to find out who that pawn was and get control of it before his opponent could.

Little did he know that his opponent was thinking the same thing.

* * *

AN: A void? On the chessboard? What does that symbolize? 


	17. A Bluffing Game

Chapter 16: A Bluffing Game

AN: I know, I know, I'm a bad, bad person for not updating. There's really no good excuse I can give, so I won't even try. All I can say is that working 20+ hours a week, plus school (including AP classes) is really draining. I tried to make up for it with a chapter that's a bit longer than usual, and very, very dramatic. Please review for it, and I swear upon my life that I will not end it here. I could not do that to you guys. I'm not that cruel.

_Darkness! Suffocating, drowning in the dark. Can't breath, can't move! So cold, like ice seeping into my veins. The very warmth of my body seems stolen away. Something over my body; can't get through! Where am I? There was warmth, there was light before. Now all dark, all damp, all cold. No, not cold. It's heating up, getting close and heavy. No…air…_

_Pain! Unimaginable amounts of pain! Ripping, tearing, rending me in two! One, falling into the darkness. Down, down it goes into the dark, never to be heard from again. Dying! Dying! _

_Ah, but with death there is life! Glorious life in the dark! I know what I need. Need to hunt, to feast on the pain and the fear and the blood. Hot blood to quench the thirst, to fill the emptiness. _

_Fill the void…_

Kassia bolted upright, one hand clutching her throat as she gasped for breath. Her eyes were dilated wide in the darkness of her room, trying to glean any bit of light from the dark that they could. The dark…

She could barely keep her hand steady as she groped for a match and a lamp. It shook violently as she struck the match, trembled as she tried in vain to light the lamp and dispel the oppressive darkness. After three matches either burned down or blew out, Kassia got lucky and the lamp lit, flooding the small room with warm yellow light. She sighed in relief that was almost physical.

"Kassia?" Her door creaked open and Rinska's head came into view. "You're mind was in turmo – Kassia!" She rushed to her sister's side and put a hand on her forehead. "You're freezing cold!"

Kassia turned her head in Rinska's direction. "Yes, as if the blood in my veins has turned to ice."

Rinska sucked in a breath as she took in Kassia's pale face and trembling form. "You had another dream, didn't you?"

'Dream' did not seem to ring true in Kassia's mind. She frowned thoughtfully. "No, not a dream. A memory, or a vision. Yes, a vision of the past."

"Vision of the past?" Rinska laughed. "If you say so. Do you want me to stay with you?"

Kassia shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. They never come twice in one night." She lay back down as Rinska left the room and closed her eyes. She left the lamp burning, just in case.

The warmth of the morning sun shining through her windows woke Kassia and immediately banished all thoughts left over from the night before. She slipped out of bed and padded softly down the hall towards the main living area. Passing Ambrose's door, she frowned. He usually rose early. Strange that he had not today.

She quietly pushed open the door to his room, just enough so that she could see his position: sitting on the bed with his eyes closed. Rather than bother him (she preferred that he _stay_ in his room, away from her and her mother), Kassia closed the door and went to eat.

Ambrose emerged from his room around evening, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly as he entered the main living area. Destiny heard his approach from the kitchen where she was finishing up dinner preparation.

"There you are Ambrose," she said. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Kassia, also in the kitchen, leveled a steady gaze at him. In any other person her expression would be called hostile, but with Kassia he couldn't be sure. The rustle of his wing feathers caught Destiny's attention and she pointed her ladle in his general direction while still keeping her attention on what she was finishing.

"And no wings in the house. I won't tolerate them knocking things over accidentally." Her tone said that she had repeated the phrase many a time to her children. Ambrose saw his chance to ask her something that had been much on his mind since yesterday afternoon.

"Speaking of wings –"

"_And_ no interrogation until after dinner," Destiny cut him off sternly. "Now, make yourself useful and set the table. Utensils are in that cupboard." She pointed it out.

Ambrose was amused by her attitude, but didn't laugh out loud because she would just demand to know why he was laughing and then, once she knew the reason, would proceed to inform him of exactly why it wasn't funny. He would rather avoid a scolding or lecture. They bored him.

Simply for something to do, he set the table. Right on cue, the front door opened with a bang, heralding the arrival of Destiny's other two children.

"Don't bang the door! It's going to fall off one of these days and I'm not going to be the one to mend it." Destiny wasn't even really paying attention to what she was saying, her mind was just going on its own. Rinska came back with her usual retort:

"So I'll mend it and then it won't be a big deal, right? We've needed a new door anyway."

Accompanied by much sibling banter, everyone sat down to the table. The tension between Destiny and Ambrose was almost palpable and everyone at the table could sense it. Kassia threw some discreet glares in Ambrose's direction when she thought he wasn't looking, and he just ignored her, trying instead to draw the safe dinner conversation into more dangerous waters. Destiny diverted these attempts as best she could, but he was persistent. Very persistent.

Eventually, the children stopped eating and withdrew from the table, hoping that if they were not in the immediate line of sight, then the adults wouldn't notice they were there and would talk more openly. They did.

Ambrose had spent the majority of the dinner poking at Destiny's defenses, trying to find a weak spot here or a back door there. After two hours of this, he finally decided that, though it wasn't in his nature, the direct approach would probably yield the most results. Very deliberately, he set down his utensils, took a sip of wine, and looked straight at Destiny, who forced herself to meet his icy gaze with her own. She had the chilling feeling that things were going to go down a path that she really didn't want them to.

"Here's the deal," he said in very deliberate tones. "We've been beating around the bush far too long for my liking and I know that some of the people in this room don't exactly trust me." He purposely did not look at Kassia. "So, let's get some thing out in the open. Obviously, since I'm an angel, I know a lot of angel-type things that you don't and would probably benefit from knowing."

Destiny regarded him silently, not willing to offer up anything just yet. She wanted to see how far he would take this. Ambrose continued.  
"You, however, are a mystery to me. Choose to believe me or don't, but I came here to learn about you and your family. If you tell me things about that, I will tell you what you want to know about angels. As a gesture of goodwill –" Kassia nearly choked with disbelief. "– I am willing to go first. Do you know how many angels there are in the world?"

Destiny raised her eyebrow. "No, and I don't really care." She really didn't see how it mattered.

"Do you know that angels aren't immortal? You may have been told otherwise, but they're not." This little fact piqued Destiny's interest, for a certain vampire had led her to believe otherwise.

Ambrose smiled. "Ah, I see that that's a little more interesting to you. But now you must tell me something in return."  
Now it was Destiny's turn to smile. "I never did agree to this little game you know. Therefore, I mustn't _do_ anything."

With a nonchalant shrug, Ambrose made as if to rise from the table. "Well, if you're happy just living your life…"

"I am, actually."

Ambrose knew she wanted information, knew she was curious despite how she might act, and therefore, knew exactly how to play his hand. This was a game of bluffs, and he was about to call hers. "It just that, it's going to be a long life."

Destiny frowned. "I though you said angels weren't immortal," she pointed out.

"That is a true statement. Notice I said 'long' life, not infinite." He turned, acting as if he were prepared to leave.

Sensing she was about to lose her best chance, Destiny invited him back to the table with the phrase, "But then again, a life lived in ignorance is not bliss."

Ambrose sat back down, allowing himself a mental, satisfied smile. "That is also a true statement. But before you get any more information, I would like some of my own. I noticed that you live by yourself, yet have children. What about their father? Does he live in the village? I haven't seen him around."

That struck a nerve and Destiny glared at him. "What about your wife?" she shot back. "I haven't seen _her_ around."

Ambrose froze, and Kassia picked up a riot of emotions rolling off him, though his facial expression betrayed only a fraction of the pain that she sensed. This time when he rose from the table, he really did mean to leave. "She died," he said stonily. "Perhaps we shouldn't have even started this conversation. Either way, I'm ending it now." He turned to go.

Destiny got the feeling that she had crossed the line. She rose as well. "Ambrose, I'm sorry. I didn't know." Her voice was soft and full or regret. "I share at least some of your feelings. Both my adopted and real mothers are dead. I never even knew my real mother, save for a brief encounter before my children were born."

Her last phrase sent a bolt of shock right to Ambrose's core, though he did not show it and did not turn to face her.

"No more games Ambrose. You tell me some of the secrets of the angels, and I'll tell you some secrets of my own. I promise." She willed Ambrose to hear her sincerity and to believe her. Relief flooded her when he sat back down at the table.

"How did you meet your real mother if she was already dead, if you don't mind me asking?"

That, at least, was a question Destiny could answer without giving too much away. "I was ill due to a poisoning of the blood and hallucinating. She came to me in the mental plane, as I guess you would call it. We talked briefly. She told me about her husband and child, about how she died."

"How did she die?" Ambrose asked softly, eyes bright with an unnamed emotion that only Kassia noticed.

Destiny sighed. "She took a walk too close to sundown and was bitten by a vampire. She died from blood loss." Whatever reaction she had been expecting, the reaction Ambrose gave wasn't it.

"Vampires!" he snarled, flinging himself back from the table and knocking over his chair in the process. "They are a plague upon the earth and deserve to burn in the deepest circle of Hell with the devil who created them. They are abomination, neither living nor dead, unfeeling, merciless –"

"Not all vampires are like that!" Destiny cried, instinctively defending not the vampiric race, but her lover.

"And I suppose you know so much about them?" Ambrose spat. "I have walked this earth with them for 400 years. Child, you know nothing of vampires!"

If there was anything that Destiny hated being called, it was 'child'. His verbal attack on vampires and the condescension in his voice made her temper flare. All reasoning skill went out the window.

"And what if I did!" she yelled at him. "What if I told you that the father of my children was a vampire? What then?"

The room went deathly quiet. Darryl, Rinska, and Kassia were shocked, but theirs was nothing compared to Ambrose's.

"And I suppose that next, you'll be telling me that their father is Dracula, hmm?" he hissed at her. Destiny said nothing, but she wasn't able to hide the expression in her face: a mixture of guilt and pain.

Ambrose's eyes widened, but before he could say a word, he stumbled backwards, clutching at his throat and gasping. Had Destiny not seen with her own eyes what was happening, she would not have believed it. Ambrose thrashed in pain as a jagged wound opened at the base of his throat, blood streaming out of it. Destiny started to run to him, but was struck down by a vision.

_Dracula was lying in a laboratory in his demonic form. He was pinned under a black werewolf who was ripping at Dracula's throat with his fangs. He backed up, allowing a view of Dracula thrashing in pain caused by a jagged wound at the base of his throat. Black blood streamed out of it as he screeched and crumbled into dust. _

With a cry of horror, Destiny blacked out.


	18. To Castle Dracula

Chapter 17: To Castle Dracula

* * *

The children had no idea what they were supposed to do. First they learned that their father was a vampire, then the two adults, who had been yelling at each other mere moments before, were suddenly incapacitated. Kassia, as a healer, faced a particular dilemma.

On the one hand, her mother, who she loved, was unconscious, but not visibly hurt or bleeding. On the other hand, Ambrose, who she neither liked nor trusted, was bleeding to death. Who did she go to first? One look at the wound on Ambrose's throat decided her. If he died now, they would never get any answers out of him.

"Darryl! Help me get him to his room!" Darryl carefully picked Ambrose up, trying not to jostle him, and made his way down the hall. "Rinska, you watch Mother. Keep a cool cloth on her head and let me know when she wakes."

As she gave these instructions, Kassia was already rushing around the kitchen, gathering up supplies that would be of use, like bandages, herbs, thread, and alcohol. Then, she hurried to Ambrose's room and got to work trying to stem the flow of blood to no avail. The blood would not clot, no matter how hard she tried. Bandages were soaked in seconds and stitches would not hold. Kassia realized with a sinking feeling that this was beyond her ability to heal. She needed her mother to wake up, and fast.

Destiny was first aware of coolness on her forehead and of a drop of water sliding down to her ear. She opened her eyes to the sight of Rinska's concerned face hovering at the edge of her line of sight. The sound of distant cursing reached her ears; Kassia's voice, she realized. Why would Kassia be cursing? Her stomach clenched and she swore as the answer came to her.

Ambrose.

She was trying to heal Ambrose and it obviously wasn't working. Ignoring Rinska's question, Destiny stood and strode quickly down the hall. Kassia looked up as the door swung open and her expression relaxed when she saw her mother standing there.

"You've done all you can Kassia, Darryl," Destiny said, nodding to each one in turn. "I must take over." Kassia was only too happy to let her do so. Once they had left the room, Destiny placed her hand on Ambrose's chest to feel his heartbeat. It was slowing noticeably. Without bothering to wonder why he wasn't starting to heal on his own, being an angel, she moved her hand to the wound, ignoring the blood that flowed around her fingers.

It was the hardest wound she'd ever attempted to heal, simply because, for whatever reason, it didn't want to close. Later, she would describe the degree of difficulty as being like trying to heal two people at once. Just when she thought it would never heal, it did, but Ambrose wasn't out of danger yet. He had lost massive quantities of blood and there simply wasn't enough left to supply his body. If she couldn't remedy that, he would soon die. There was only one thing for it and Destiny desperately hoped that he wouldn't remember what she was about to do.

Grabbing a handheld mirror form the bedside table, she smashed it and took the biggest shard she could find. With the shard firmly in her grasp, she drew a line across her wrist, a line that beaded up with red liquid. Holding her wrist close to Ambrose's mouth, she proceeded to hold off her natural healing ability while her blood trickled into his mouth, partially replenishing what he had lost.

Destiny finally allowed herself to heal and straightened, closing her eyes as the room spun. Perhaps she had given him too much, but it had worked. His heartbeat was now regular and strong, and given time, he would heal completely.

Kassia was waiting anxiously by Ambrose's door when it opened and her mother walked out. She didn't know what had transpired behind that closed door, but whatever it was, it had taken a toll on her mother. Her mother's pale skin was a pasty white color and her presence was…diminished.

"Mother! Are you all right?" She made as if to go to her mother, but Destiny waved her concern away.

"It's nothing that time won't fix. However, time is what I do not have right now." If her vision had been a true one, then she only had a certain amount of time to accomplish what she wanted to. "Ambrose will heal, but he is not to leave his bed for at least five days, maybe more. I do not know, so you will have to use your own judgement." As she spoke, Destiny was heading towards her room, Kassia following close behind, wondering what on earth her mother was up to. A few dresses went into a small bag, which Destiny secured on her back and then strode outside.

She turned to Kassia. "I know I can trust you and your siblings to keep an eye on things here while I'm gone." She gave her daughter a hug and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then she grew her wings and sprang into the air, her wings pumping as she tried to gain altitude.

Kassia watched her mother until she was only a small white speck in the dark sky. _But Mother,_ she thought, _Where are you going?_

Destiny flew farther than she had in many years, farther and longer than she probably had in her life. She did not notice as night became day, ignored the need for rest, for food and drink. She pushed herself to the edge of her endurance and concentrated only on reaching her destination. As she came around the next mountain, Destiny's eyes landed on the place she had been searching for.

The heavy black stone of the castle, though frosted, stood out against the stark white of the snow swirling through the air around it. She ignored the smaller of the two castles, knowing it to contain nothing of any real value, and adjusted her flight path so that she landed in front of the larger. Snow crunched under her feet as she landed on the edge of the precipice.

Looking behind her, Destiny could see the wide stone archway that contained the portal mirror. The barren, dead trees that flanked it housed frozen skeletons that hung from their branches. _Those are new_, she thought, not remembering them from the time that she lived in this desolate, forsaken place. Then again, she had not visited in over twenty-one years. She pitied the poor souls who had met their end in such a horrible way.

Gazing around, all Destiny saw were memories. Spanning the chasm between the larger and smaller castles was the bridge that she had once threatened to jump off of and had actually fallen from. It had taken a fair bit of damage; some of the fire basins that lined it were knocked over and the stone was smashed in some places. It must have been quite a fight.

She trudged over to the massive wooden door that barred the entrance to the larger castle. Amusing how that door, which was meant to keep people from escaping, now prevented her from entering, something most people would be quite insane to do. Castle Dracula was a name that inspired fear in the hearts of all mortals who knew of it, and even some immortals.

A kick to the door yielded no results, but she hadn't expected it to (it was a very solid door after all). Luckily, she had wings and launched herself up the length of the door and through the opening at the top. She surveyed the front hall as she flew through it and noted, with disgust, the baby vampire egg-sack glop that coated every available surface. Obviously Dracula had been temporarily successful in bringing his children to life, and had made quite a mess in the process.

Destiny grimaced as she landed on the far side of the hall and stood there, looking at the stairs and wondering which way to go. Her vision hadn't been specific enough to where she'd been able to figure out which laboratory Dracula had been in when he died. Perhaps he'd built a new, task-specific laboratory for bringing his children to life, in which case she had no earthly idea where it would be. A ridiculously obvious answer came to her and she chose the left-hand staircase, following the path of destruction to the laboratory where her lover had met his doom.

After a bit of a climb, she reached a door that hung crazily on its hinges, suggesting that something, or someone, large had crashed into it at one point. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against whatever sight lay inside the room and pushed the door open carefully.

The sight that met her eyes caused Destiny to stop dead in her tracks, gaping. Instead of the pile of ashes she'd been anticipating, Dracula lay, fully assembled, right in the spot where she'd seen him die.

"It's not possible," she whispered, then kicked herself, because she should have know better than to think that anything, when it came to Dracula, was impossible. She took first one hesitant step, then another, towards his prone form. He didn't so much as twitch. Obviously, whatever force had reassembled his body had not put his spirit back in it.

Kneeling down beside him, Destiny brushed the dark hair out of his face and cupped his cheek in her hand. She tried to sent healing energy into his body, but was met with resistance. There was no physical healing that needed to be done there. She cursed quietly, at a loss for what to do. Putting someone's spirit back into his body was something she'd never ever done before and she really had no earthly idea how to go about it. As she sighed, a frustrated tear slipped from her eye and landed on Dracula's face.

There was a minute glimmer of light and, to her astonishment, his eyelids twitched. Before Destiny could decide how to respond, Dracula's eyes opened and focused their inky depths on her face.

* * *

AN: He's baaaack. What, you thought I'd just leave him in limbo forever? Nah. That wouldn't be very much fun now would it? 


	19. Life is a Habit

Chapter 18: Life is a Habit

AN: Well, I kept my promise. It took me months to do so, which I sincerely regret, but Hand of Fate will go on! For all of you readers who have patiently waited for so long, I can't thank you enough. And therefore, I will not delay the chapter any longer. Have fun!

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Dracula looked at Destiny's face for a moment, then closed his eyes again and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes with his pinky. Destiny raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you do that? Your eyes are closed, so what's the point in brushing the hair out of them?" she asked.

"It's a habit," Dracula replied, not opening his eyes. "Like living. Living is a habit, one that I can't seem to break for very long." He knew that he should be dead, as in stone-cold dead, in Hell, and at the mercy of Satan. So why wasn't he? "Maybe that's what death is," he mused instead. "If life is a habit, then when we break that habit, we simply die. We each have out place in the habit of life, like pieces on a chessboard."

Destiny rolled her eyes and sighed. "As interesting as this is –" she began, but Dracula simply ignore her.

"And why is she here?" Destiny mildly resented the fact that he was talking about her as if she wasn't there. "Is she really here? Are any of us, for that matter, really here? Maybe reality is only a false perception of the universe…"

Destiny has long since stopped paying attention to his words and found herself instead focusing on the movement of his lips. She remembered well what those lips could do…Bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts! She resisted the urge to laugh ruefully. Only back with Dracula for five minutes and she was already thinking about physical pleasure. That was not a good sign, or was it? Wasn't that why she had brought Dracula back from…from…well, wherever he had been? Why _had_ she brought him back?

_I love him_, she said to herself. _After all these years, I still love him. _However, she did feel guilty about bringing him back, because she knew that she had just sentenced an unknown number of people to death. God would never forgive her now. He might have been lenient with her up until now, but surely He would not be able to overlook this. Not this.

Taking a closer look at Dracula, who was still musing aloud about life, unlife, and death, she noticed how pale he was, even for him. He needed to feed, and soon, or else his system would not be able to continue functioning. She had only given enough blood to Ambrose to get him to the point where his body could make more blood on its own, but Dracula didn't have that capability.

Offering her own blood was out; she had lost too much already and was too drained from the past two days to be able to give Dracula enough to survive. Going and bringing back an innocent was also out. First of all, she couldn't bring herself to kill someone. But…wasn't that what she was doing by reviving Dracula?

Destiny shook her head. She would have a nice long debate with herself over the morality of her decision later. Anyway, there were no close villages, so flying out and bringing someone back would take too long, since he was too weak to fly himself. Maybe if she got a cow's blood…but no. Dracula would never drink a cow's blood. _Not knowingly anyway_, her mind whispered. _But who said he has to know until it's already said and done?_

If only she had a wine bottle…

Destiny resisted the urge of smack herself in the forehead. She was in a castle. Castles had wine cellars. Somewhere, probably collecting dust on a shelf, there had to be an empty wine bottle. She rose and left Dracula to his musings with a muttered, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Wine cellar, wine cellar, my kingdom for a wine cellar," Destiny said to herself as she stood at the junction of three corridors. During the time she'd lived at Castle Dracula she'd been everywhere at least once except, of course, a wine cellar. "May as well start at the bottom and work my way up."

The cellar she eventually found was filled with cases containing rows upon rows of dusty wine bottles. But no empty ones. By the time Destiny reached this conclusion, she had been searching for half an hour and was both dusty and severely annoyed.

"Not one in the whole place," she muttered. Her gaze fell on a bottle labeled Burgundy. "Well, if I can't find an empty wine bottle, I might as well make one." It had been a long and stressful two days. She could use a pick-me-up. Uncorking the bottle, she took a sip and instantly spat it out. It was horrible! She looked closer at the dust-covered label, brushing it off. It read:

_BURGUNDY_

_1596_

Okay, so it was a really old wine. She brushed off a little more. 

_Female_

_27 years old_

Huh? Female? Destiny shuddered as she realized what it was and kicked herself soundly for not realizing it sooner. Then, disgust took over. What kind of person went around bottling their victims' blood? It was just plain disturbing! However, this was a bit of luck for her. Instead of having to get cow's blood, she could give Dracula this. Grabbing a wineglass and the bottle, she returned to the ruin of the lab.

"Ah, Burgundy," Dracula sighed, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Such a nice area Burgundy is. So full of life." He neatly finished off the bottle of blood. Destiny sat there, not sure as to what she should say to him. _Where do we go from here?_ she wondered.

"Well, this is awkward," she sighed. Dracula looked at her in mild confusion.  
"Why?"

Destiny gave him a look that said she couldn't believe he'd just asked that. "Perhaps because we haven't seen each other in over two decades?"

He brushed that statement away with a wave of his hand. "That's not such a long time."

"Perhaps not to you, but that's over half of my life!" she exclaimed. Again, Dracula waved a hand and said nonchalantly, "Give it a century or so and that will pass."

The statement had a sobering effect on Destiny. She wrapped her arms around herself and suppressed a shiver. "It sounds so…indefinite when you put it like that. It makes time seem so vast and limitless, like a great ocean that no one person can ever cross." She turned her gaze to Dracula and he saw that her eyes had darkened with emotion. "It frightens me to think that I could reach a point in my life where a century seems like a small interval of time. The term 'forever' frightens me." Her voice trailed off into silence.

Dracula looked at his lover and realized that, for all that she was strong and spirited, independent and intelligent, there were times where she resembled a lost child. A part of her that had not moved on from the young woman he had bitten. That part was unsure of how to cope with the concept of living for eternity and, instead of having caused her to accept the fact, the years they had been apart had led her to realized the weight of the gift he had given her.

He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, unsure himself of what to say. Instead of speaking, he folded her into his embrace and ran his fingers through her silky hair as she leaned against him. The two immortals stood like that as the seconds turned into minutes, until Dracula's sensed told him that the sun would rise soon.

"Come," he told his angel. "The sun will rise soon –"

"Yes, you should rest, to allow your body to finish regeneration," she murmured. He felt her stumble slightly as they made their way out of the ruined laboratory and knew that he was not the only one who needed rest.

As the lid was closed and darkness surrounded her, Destiny turned her head slightly and softly kissed the lips of her undead paramour before closing her eyes and succumbing to sleep.

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Review happy author happy muse new chapter happy readers


	20. Feelings Rekindled

Chapter 19: Feelings Rekindled

AN: Before you even berate me for leaving you guys for such a long period, let me tell you that I am deeply sorry. But I came back! And now I'm graduating and summer is coming, which means no more AP exams, no more finals, and most importantly, more time to write! This chapter's a little slower than my normal pace, with a little more focus on character development and the maturation of Destiny and Dracula's relationship. Have fun and don't forget to review!

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Sunlight streamed through the window, falling across Ambrose's prone figure and into his eyes. He twitched and turned his head away from the offending light, groaning as the movement sent spasms of pain through his neck and shoulder. He lay there, unmoving, wondering why he was still alive. The last thing he remembered was horrific pain in his neck and the feeling of his own blood leaving his body. There was something else too, something important…something Destiny had said. About her children perhaps? Yes, that sounded right.

Ambrose focused his mind on the memory of the dinner conversation, playing it back in his mind, and then swore vehemently as he remembered. Dracula.

Dracula was the father of Destiny's children.

Dracula.

But something had obviously happened to his Mirror, or else Ambrose wouldn't have almost died. Not that he would have really died. There was only one way to do that and he was pretty sure that another angel had _not_ caused the wound. It felt more like the bite of a huge feral beast. Most likely a werewolf had turned renegade and had had the will to take a stand at Dracula. He hoped no one else had died in the attempt, for their death would have been in vain either way.

It was then that he noticed the house was unusually quiet and he could not sense Destiny's presence anywhere. What kind of healer left a patient like that? His musings were interrupted by the sound of the room's door opening. However, Destiny did not stand on the threshold. Instead, Kassia made her way quietly into the room and looked over at him.

"You're awake," she said, sounding very surprised.

"Yes, I have come to that conclusion as well," Ambrose remarked in annoyance, for his healed wound was hurting him greatly.

"I see you're in a fine temper," she remarked mildly. "Only to be expected as your system is overtaxed trying to complete the healing process and has no energy to divert to pain management."

Ambrose winced at he tried to raise his head, as the movement strained the neck muscles that were not completely healed. "Astute observation. I don't suppose you can help?"

Kassia produced a vial of some brownish-red liquid. It looked like the color of dried blood, he noticed disgustedly. "Mother said to give this to you when you woke up. I'm warning you now: it tastes really bad, but it works."

True to her word, the potion was vile, but Ambrose could feel the effects even as he took the first sip. The medicine eased the pain considerably and he was able to sit up without much discomfort to give the vial back to her.

"Where is your mother?" he asked with just the right amount of indifference. Kassia shrugged.

"I don't know. Out." She picked up clean linen and antiseptic salve from the tray she'd been carrying and approached the bed to change his bandages. Ambrose was instantly suspicious of her vague answer.

"Out where?"

The look Kassia shot him was irritated. "Look Ambrose, she didn't even tell me where she was going. She just left instructions as to your care and flew away. I have no idea where."

Ambrose got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Three important facts were at the top of his mind. One: Dracula was the father of Destiny's children. Two: his Mirror had been injured almost to the death. Three: Destiny was gone to a secret place not even her daughter knew of. All three pointed to one conclusion.

* * *

The two of them slept like the dead (literally in Dracula's case, figuratively in Destiny's) as the sun climbed to its zenith and then began to slowly descend beyond the horizon. Destiny woke first, a little disoriented and not at all sure where she was. The memory of the previous night's happenings returned to her and she lay there in the darkness of the coffin, her mind reeling as the weight of her decision finally hit home.

Good God, what _had_ she done?

Quietly, she slipped out of Dracula's embrace and exited the coffin, slipper-clad feet padding noiselessly across the stone floor as she sought out a secluded place to think. She found one at the very top of the castle, a tower room with a west-facing window that allowed a spectacular view of the sun setting behind the surrounding mountains.

Destiny thought of everything and nothing as she stood at the window, staring at the sinking sun with an unwavering gaze. She stood immobile even after darkness descended upon the land and the last of the sun's warmth left the stones under her feet.

"I thought I might find you here." Dracula said from the doorway. Her continued silence confirmed his guess as to why she was there. "Regretting your decision, my dear?" He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. To his surprise, she reached up to cover on of his cold hands with her small warm one, though she still did not turn around.

"I do not regret my decision to restore you. I worry about the consequences of my actions and fear what the repercussions will be. But I do not regret." Her voice was calm, but firm, and her hand did not tremble.

She had matured, Dracula thought. The Destiny he remembered would have restored him and then panicked when she realized what she'd done. She would have flown to where he could not find her, trying to escape what she could not reverse. But the girl – no, the _woman_ standing before him was resolved to see the situation through, to whatever end. Even if it meant her death, he realized with shock. But his shock was not at her resolve, it was at the feeling of protectiveness that rose in him and the fear that she would die.

_She has rekindled that which I thought to be long dead_, he thought to himself, a little more than slightly amazed. He had grown accustomed to not being able to feel anything but anger, and to have feelings again was a bit strange, to say the least.

As if picking up on his train of thought, Destiny spoke. "Motherhood will do that to you, as well as caring for villagers, fighting the occasional demon, and being constantly vigilant. But motherhood most of all."

Though Dracula wouldn't admit it, even to himself, he wanted to hear about her…no, his…no, _their_ children. He belatedly realized that Destiny was speaking again.

"- but I still worry about them. I don't think I'll ever stop. I just want them to be able to find their places in the world and to be happy. Kassia won't have a hard time of it; she'll probably move to a nearby town and set up as a healer there. Darryl will most likely become a demon hunter; he lives for the thrill of the hunt. But Rinska…I don't know. She's too different, too much like we are. Your eyes, my hair, and the better part of both our tempers." He could hear the smile in her voice.

Destiny stepped back a little, closing the distance between them, and turned to rest her head on Dracula's chest. "I was so scared, when I saw that werewolf kill you in the vision," she confessed. "I was scared, for a reason I had not yet dared to admit, even to myself. The reason I ran, the reason I hid, the reason I returned."

She tilted her head up and kissed him. When she would have broken the contact, Dracula held her fast, drawing her back with all the skill accumulated over his many years. When they parted, just enough to let Destiny breathe, Dracula heard her whisper against his lips a phrase that would have, had he been alive, stopped his heart.

"I love you."


	21. The Trials of Domestic Life

Chapter 20: The Trials of Domestic Life

Destiny left him standing in the tower room, under the impression that he needed to think. She had not yet reached the bottom of the staircase when Dracula appeared in front of her, pushing her up against the wall and kissing her forcefully, almost…passionately. Destiny froze. Was it possible? No, she told herself. She was just imagining things. Wishful thinking; that's all it was. The thought caused her to pull away with a small smile on her face and sadness in her icy eyes. Dracula looked at her with a perplexed frown.

"You don't have to pretend with me Vladislaus," she said on the tail end of a sigh. "I have accepted the way you are, and I am okay with it. You needn't pretend to feel what you cannot, simply for my sake." She turned and headed down the stairs.

Dracula watched her go, feeling confused. Then it dawned on him: she still believed he couldn't feel anything. And if he came right out and told her, she wouldn't believe a word he said. Well then, he would just have to show her somehow.

Dracula sat down on the stairs and thought for quite some time before an idea came to him. Destiny had probably flown for quite a long time to get here from wherever her home was. Knowing her as he did, she wouldn't have stopped to rest or eat. Well, she'd rested right enough, but maybe she was hungry? He really didn't know how to cook, having lived off blood for the last 400 years, but surely it couldn't be that hard?

He would later add the phrase to his list of 'Famous Last Words'.

Destiny was in her favorite chair in the Lesser Library when her nose twitched. Was something burning? She sniffed the air and coughed as she caught the distinct scent of smoke. Putting her book on the table next to her, she followed the cloud of wispy gray smoke down the corridor, down two flights of stairs, through the dining hall, and into the kitchen.

"What in God's name are you doing?!" she demanded. Dracula whirled and Destiny had to work hard to keep herself from bursting into laughter at the sight of him covered in smudges of soot.

"How did you find me?"

Destiny snorted, but not from amusement. "I followed the smoke. Now, OUT!" She pointed a finger at the door and hurried to douse the flaming mess that looked like it had once been food…of a sort. Why in the world was Dracula trying to cook real food? He didn't eat! But…she did.

Was he actually trying to cook for her? The notion, though it seemed bizarre to her, also touched her heart. But it was a confusing situation. Why would Dracula, knowing he didn't know how to cook, try to prepare a meal for her? Did he…actually care? Something strange was going on, and she intended to find out just what it was.

Destiny grabbed a damp cloth and left the kitchen. Dracula was standing in the dining hall, frowning and talking to himself.

"I know I put enough wood in…the stove was definitely red, so that couldn't be it. And I kept in on for long enough…wouldn't want it to be undercooked…"

He seemed so confused that Destiny hid her smile.

"Vladislaus, just what were you trying to do?" she asked as she took the cloth and gently wiped his face. Dracula scowled. "Cooking. I would have thought that was obvious."

"How about you do us both a favor and leave the cooking to me, hmm?"

Dracula was secretly relieved, but by nature was not going to back down without a fight…or at least an argument. "It's my kitchen."

"And it's my food. I'd like to be able to eat it. Besides, have you ever even been in here before?"

"It's my castle…I'm sure I have!" he countered defensively.

"Ha!" Destiny did not believe that one. "Okay, how about…why in the world were you trying to cook?"

"It must have been a long flight over here. I would have thought you'd be hungry. However, if you are only going to malign my efforts to sate a rather human need, I won't bother."

She looked at him a bit oddly. "Funny…that doesn't seem to fit with the Dracula I know…"

_The Watcher observing the scene cursed fluently in a tongue not known to those who inhabit the mortal realm. This was an unexpected development, and one he did not appreciate in the slightest. That thrice-damned angel seemed to have thrown a wrench in his game-plan. For now, his opponent would appear to have the advantage._

_The Watcher looked at the chessboard opposite him, and more specifically, at the void occupying one corner. He smiled slightly. Yes, his opponent had the advantage…but only for the moment. _

Dracula shrugged elegantly. "Well, you said it yourself: you have been gone for two decades."

"You haven't changed in nearly four hundred years! Why would two decades make any difference?"

Dracula had no quick retort for that. Destiny decided to let the matter drop and instead finished wiping his face free of soot smudges. Once she deemed his face suitably clean, she tossed the cloth back into the kitchen and started to walk out of the hall.

Dracula frowned. "Where are you going?"

"The Lesser Library. That's where I was before I got interrupted by the smoke." Destiny looked back at him with a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You are welcome to join me, if you wish."

"How nice of you to give me permission to enter my own library." Dracula's words were lightly laced with sarcasm, but he took her up on the offer anyway.

Destiny settled back into her chair in the corner of the library while Dracula prowled the length of the tall shelves, looking for something that he hadn't read five-hundred times already. As she picked up the book she'd been reading, Destiny noticed a few drawings lying on a small table, half-hidden underneath a large tome. Lifting the tome, she carefully slid the papers out from underneath it and inspected them.

The drawings had been done recently from what she could tell, and they all depicted a woman with a round face and long hair. In one drawing it was coiled artfully around her head; in another, it hung loose down her back. Her mouth looked like it was quicker to smile than to frown and her eyes hinted at a sharp intelligence. Destiny wondered who the woman was, and who had drawn her with such precision. She wondered if there were any more pictures of the woman, who seemed vaguely familiar.

A few paintings stood in the corner of the room nearest her, covered in dust and obviously long forgotten about. Destiny stood and turned the first one around, smiling as she found herself looking at a portrait of Dracula when he was young, maybe 30 or so. Amazing what a difference 10 years made to his features. He looked much happier, much softer. She put the portrait aside and looked at the next one.

It was the woman and Destiny almost had to do a double-take. In color, the resemblance between them was even more pronounced. When Destiny had been mortal, she and this unknown woman had had the same mousey brown hair, the same warm brown eyes. While the woman's face was definitely different, there were similarities in the shape of their noses, the curve of their lips, and the roundness of their faces. Destiny looked back at the portrait of Dracula. The two paintings must have been done at the same time, as both Dracula and the woman were dressed in similar clothes. Destiny pursed her lips angrily, recognizing that the portraits had been meant to hang together, which meant one thing…they'd been married.


	22. A Minor Glitch

Destiny: "Where did our author go?"

Dracula: "I have no idea" ((checks inside a coffin))

Destiny: "Don't be morbid…I found her. She seems to have crawled into this dark hole."

Dracula: "Why ever would she want to do that?"

Destiny: "I think she wants to curl up and die of shame…though I may be mistaken."

Dracula: "I could help with that." ((brightens))

Destiny: "……………"

* * *

Chapter 21: A Minor Glitch

Destiny was not angry that Dracula had been married before. He'd been forty when he'd been killed; in that day and age, that was more than old enough to marry and father children. It still was, and, being a nobleman, it was his duty to secure his bloodline. Well, he'd done that, albeit not exactly in the way that his father had planned.

No, she couldn't fault him for living like a normal human man. And she didn't. Hers was a bigger bone to pick than that.

Destiny gently gathered up the drawings and crossed into the study that branched off of the library. Dracula was in there, studying a chess set make of marble and obsidian. She gently cleared her throat, alerting him to her presence, and was rewarded with a glance in her direction.

"I found some drawings on a table in the library," she said in a calm tone. "They're really quite good…did you do them?" She showed him the woman. Dracula stood from the chess set and took the sketches from her hands. "Seeing as Marishka and Aleera did not possess the intelligence to see the value in applying themselves to such trifles as art and music, and Verona's level of talent was mediocre at best, I would thus be the logical choice of artist."

"You're being sarcastic when a simply yes or no was all I needed," Destiny observed. "What are you hiding?" When he didn't answer right away, she pressed him. "Who is she? She's really pretty." She kept her tone and mind devoid of strong emotion.

Dracula's tone was cold and closed. "Her name was Vesna."

Destiny nodded. "I see. She died then, your wife. It must have been hard on you, losing her."

There was nothing in her tone of voice to make him wary, and yet…Dracula was struck by the realization that he was treading on very thin ice. Impossibly thin. He knew his angel well. She had never been one to hide her emotions and even twenty years of motherhood could not have changed such a core personality trait. But now she was being much too calm, much too _deliberately_ calm. She had something up her sleeve and it would only take one wrong move from him to reveal it.

In not saying anything at all, Dracula had unknowingly made the wrong move. "You know, I kind of feel an affinity to her," Destiny commented. "We both filled the role of your lover; we even shared similar features, at least when I was mortal. I've heard," here she gave a soft laugh, "that when men and women who have lost a spouse remarry, they often are drawn to a person who reminds them of the one they lost. Is that what happened, Vladislaus?"

Her comment threw Dracula for a loop. He could see where she was headed with this, and in the wake of everything that had happened recently, the thought gave him pause.

Destiny watched her lover with a solemn face and somber eyes. Icy eyes that, once he met, seemed to pierce his soul (in a metaphorical sense only, of course) with their questions.

"What was I to you Vladislaus?" she asked. "You told me that the song of divinity in my blood drew you to me. That I resembled your dead wife probably was an added bonus. I have been your captive, your lover, a living body to nurture your seed, the mother of the only living members of your bloodline, and the one who restored your essence to your body. I'm only going to ask you one question, so please don't insult me by lying. Was I ever an individual person to you, or was I just filling a role?"

Dracula was struck by the lack of blame in her voice, the lack of yelling and ranting that had been directed against him in the past. He was struck by the simple melancholy of her tone. Moreover, he was struck by the realization that he didn't have a straight answer for her and, in lieu of a straight answer, was unwilling to feed her even a believable lie.

As the seconds ticked by without an answer, Destiny could feel her heart slowly sinking. Surely, if he saw her as her own person, he would have told her by now, would he not? Therefore, she construed his silence as a confirmation of her own worst fears rather than the pensive silence that it actually was.

"I see," she said quietly, and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the expression on her face. However, she forgot that their mind-bond was wide open and her emotions were still available for examination as she walked to stare out the window at the snow. Dracula did not move to follow her, instead focusing his attention inward on his jumbled thoughts.

How did he feel about her? Quite obviously their relationship had evolved since he had learned to feel again. Dracula wondered idly if he'd always been able to feel, but had merely forgotten how to recognize the symptoms. That would be unfortunate; 400 years of feelings lost like they'd never existed. Being hollow was, ironically, a more comforting diagnosis. He had tried so hard to distance himself from the pain of losing Vesna; had he himself dug the grave in which he'd buried his ability to feel?

Such a thought did not sit well with Dracula and he left the library without a word. Down the corridor was a room, one which he kept locked at all times, which contained a chest of wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In this chest he had stored all the correspondence between himself and Vesna, from the first letter he had written to her as a brash young warrior eager to prove himself worthy to her father, to the last letter she had given him upon her deathbed. To answer Destiny's question, he would need those letters. They would help him show her, to make her understand, and to hopefully help him understand.

Destiny stood in the study, aware that Dracula had left but not really wondering as to why. He would tell her in his own time, on his own terms she was sure. That was his way and it was not likely to change. In a way, she was glad he had stepped out, because it meant that she could do some thinking of her own. She sighed, her pale eyes flicking to the window and taking in the panorama of the mountains. Across those mountains lay her home. How was Kassia coping with Ambrose? Were Rinska and Darryl keeping the local demon population under control? If Dracula did not see her as an individual, how long would she stay here?

Parchment littered the floor around where Dracula kneeled. He hadn't bothered to light a candle; darkness had always been enough for him and would remain that way for years to come. He caressed the letter he held with his thumbs, as if by stroking the faded ink he could awaken the spirit of his dead wife. His Vesna had been soft, stable, patient…a dutiful wife but not a dull one. Her intelligence had been something fierce and lent itself to sage counsel that had often cooled his temper. When he had first seen Destiny, it was like seeing Vesna returned to life, but his angel had quickly dispelled any illusions that they were the same person. Destiny was similar, and yet more…

Dracula sighed. He'd thought himself to be long free of the troubles begotten by such relationships. "But often the great cat Fate lets us go only to clutch us again in a fiercer grip1," he whispered.

The letter drifted down to join its companions on the floor.

Destiny picked up a chess piece and studied it. It was the black king, and it was carved to look like Dracula in his normal form. "Quite intricate craftsmanship," Destiny remarked to herself, "and so very like him. King of the chess pieces, indeed!" She laughed softly and looked down at the board, a frown marring her forehead. She couldn't recall where the piece had been. "Not that it really matters, I suppose. Who is he going to play against anyway?" She placed the piece in an oddly empty section of the board.

There was a soft _whoosh_, like the sound of air rushing to fill an empty space. Destiny turned around, but there was no one behind her. In fact, she realized with a sinking feeling, there was no one else in the castle at all.

Dracula had just entered the study when the world around him shifted and blurred. The warm light of the room was replaced with smoky darkness, broken only by the glow of street lamps. He could hear the clop-clop of carriage horses, mixed with the sparse sounds of human chatter. All of this took him but a second to process as he realized that he was, in fact, perched on top of the Tower Bridge. He sighed.

"This will complicate things."

* * *

1. This is a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Curse of Eve_. I am aware that the story wasn't published until 1894, but it's an apropos quote and I like it.


	23. The Most Dangerous Game

AN:

Dracula: *bending over a dark hole* She won't come out.

Destiny: What, she's hiding in there again? She can't seriously be that embarrassed.

Disembodied voice: Try me.

Dracula: Guess she is. I personally don't understand what's so long about nine months without an update…

Destiny: She's only human. It's a long time for her.

Unnamed character: Oh, did I scare her down there again?

Destiny: You! This is all your fault! You refused to talk to her! Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again. Do you know how long it took us to catch all those plot bunnies? *accepts piece of paper from the hole* Oh, and Creative-Insanity would like to dedicate this entire story to her dad, who is a master at rounding up all her escaped plot bunnies.

* * *

Chapter 22: The Most Dangerous Game

The door to the seedy tavern opened with a bang, spilling the sound of raucous laughter and the scent of ale into the still night as two figures made their unsteady way out onto the cobblestones. Yellow lantern light from the establishment revealed the taller one to be male and the shorter, more scantily clad one to be female; however, both were equally drunk and the jingle of a few coins in the man's pocket promised to make what remained of the evening even more enjoyable. Pressed more closely together that propriety normally allowed, they made their way down the alley, one wobbly, oblivious step at a time. Humans tend to be nicely obliging this way.

* * *

A certain section of darkness followed in the couple's wake, skittering along in their shadows in a manner not unlike the flight pattern of bats. Normally, he wouldn't have let them get this far, but he was in a dilemma of sorts. When he killed them, did he want the blood to be laced with the alcohol they'd consumed, or the fear he could inspire? That made a nice little rhyme in his head…beer or fear? Beer or fear? He'd flip a coin if he had one, but he didn't, so he couldn't. Maybe if he tried one of them one way and one the other…but he'd have to be careful. Beer and fear together tended to give him indigestion and that would be a waste of the whole bloody night.

* * *

The whore's would-be client never knew what hit him. One minute he was making his way towards his hotel, encased in the happy tipsy bubble that drinking too much ale brings, the next…well, there were only two places he could go and it's not my place to predict which. The hunter tackled him from the side, smashing the body into the brick wall. Of course, this gave the whore ample reason to panic, which she did, and ample time to run away, which she also did, but in her drunken stupor she chose the direction opposite to the tavern. Not that the hunter particularly cared; he'd get her eventually. Her fear spores would leave a trail so strong that following them would be like following a path of pretty candles.

* * *

Okay, so beer was definitely a good way to break his fast. The hunter used his fangs and claws to their best advantages, ripping into the soft flesh of his victim's throat with a savagery unmatched in the society of man, rending whatever part of the body he needed to ribbons in order to get every last crimson drop. When his thirst had been slackened slightly he let the body drop to the street with a wet splat, not unlike the sound a wet rag makes when it too is cast down. He could afford to take a few moments to let the slight effects of the alcohol set in; after all, if he went after the whore in an angry set of mind it would all be over too quickly. No, he really deserved to have a bit of fun; after all, he'd been so very good and restrained lately.

* * *

The whore could feel her blood pounding in here ears, eclipsing all other sounds except for her breath, which was coming in ragged gasps. Her brain couldn't even be bothered to figure out just what was chasing her. All that mattered was getting far away, fast, getting out of these back alleys and onto the populated streets. If she could only get around enough people, she would be safe. No one was foolish enough to attack with so many witnesses. Run fast…run far…get away…find people…run fast… the mantra repeated over and over in her head, spinning around in dizzying circles until she wasn't sure which way was up or down but pressed on regardless. Her throat was closing up, making it hard to get enough air into her burning lungs. She had to have lost him by now! A crash behind the whore spurred her onward. If she could just make it to Dorset Street!

* * *

The hunter followed the whore for a little while, laughing inside at the thoughts running through her head. Just for fun, he kicked over a rubbish bin and was rewarded with an extra dose of panic and the bittersweetness of desperate hope. As she reached the main street, he dropped back, watching with detached interest as she fumbled to unlock what he assumed was her own door. Silly bint thought that was going to keep the "bogeyman" out? His sharp hearing followed her progress though the building and he crept up the walls towards her flat.

* * *

The whore sighed in relief when she closed the door to her shabby flat. There had been no sign of anyone following her since she'd gotten to the street. Maybe it would be safe to stay here for a bit and then go back to work. She pushed aside the coat that acted as a curtain and entered her bedroom. Once she entered the space however, the whole feeling of the flat changed, becoming colder, more sinister. A man stood in the corner, barely visible to her in the gloom, arms folded across his chest. The way his head tracked her movements made it clear he could see her just fine. The whore was too frightened to scream…too frightened to move…like a mouse caught under the stare of a cobra.

* * *

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary…but you don't have a garden here, do you?" The man chuckled, letting his arms swing by his sides and giving the frightened woman a glimpse of hands that ended in wicked looking claws. "What are you!?" the whore gasped. A white grin flashed, revealing vicious-looking fangs. "It's always the same questions…who are you? Why are you here? What…do…you…want?" he drawled, black eyes glinting with a mixture of laughter and disgust.

* * *

The whore couldn't take her eyes off those fangs. "Please, don't kill me," she pleaded. The man appeared to consider her request for a moment. "Okay, then. I won't." Hope flooded her veins, sweet irrational hope.

* * *

The hunter was almost salivating at the scent of that hope. Oh, this cocktail was going to be so sweet…Unable to take it anymore he lunged forward, pushing the whore onto the bed and going for her throat. The taste of her blood, now scented with despair as well, sent him into a frenzy. "Okay, so I lied." He ripped at the flesh of her torso, not really caring how much the flesh got mutilated as long as he could get all of that delicious red liquid. Let the pathetic human police try to find him. They never would.

What finally made him lift his head, aside from the end of the blood supply, was the feeling that someone was connecting to him…sensing him…he felt along the line of the sensation, trying to figure out who or what it was…

* * *

From his position on the Tower Bridge, Dracula listened to the sounds of the city as he considered his next move. A spike of complete terror caught his attention, and it was worrisome. Well, not the terror itself (that was rather refreshing), for it paled in comparison to the veil of primal rage and bloodlust he was sensing it through. Feeling along the sensation, Dracula realized that whatever he was sensing was also sensing _him_…

* * *

Kassia froze while she on her was her way to check on Ambrose. She was suddenly swamped with a wave of feelings so violent and repugnant that she almost vomited. So much rage…it was like the figure in her dreams. The dreams which were coming more frequently now, much more frequently than she let Rinska know. There was something else behind the rage too, like she was looking through a veil at a brooding darkness…

* * *

Trapped in his bed, Ambrose felt the connection that was his mirror. Yes…he could get the sounds of a city…a bridge? Felt like London…but this London seemed darker than the one he remembered, and the darkness didn't have the familiar quality he was used to. It was like looking through a veil at something close to pure evil, only barely contained by sentience…

* * *

The thought was chilling.


	24. Reparations

AN: I would like to thank the lovely Maddie for taking the time to review the last chapter and for writing the words that got me out of my shame hole and through the first half of this chapter. I would also like to thank BleedmetoINSANITY, whose review of an earlier chapter combined with watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire tonight and propelled me through the second half of this chapter in record time. Don't ask me how that worked; all I know is that it did and I'm grateful. Without further delay, I present…the next installment…

* * *

Chapter 23: Reparations

When Darryl limped back to his house after a particularly trying night of patrol with Rinska, the first thing he wanted to do was shuck his nasty clothes and head down the sea to bathe. At this time of the morning, many of the villagers would still be asleep and therefore unquestioning of what they did not see. For that matter, Kassia might still be asleep. With these thoughts in mind, therefore, the last thing he expected to see upon entering the house was Kassia curled up in a ball on the floor next to a puddle of vomit, shaking.

"Kassia!" Rinska gave a shout from behind and pushed past him, rushing to their sister's side. She grabbed the delicately boned hands that were clutching convulsively at her ears and pried them away. "Kassia…" There was no real response, only pitiful little half-sobs. Rinska looked up at Darryl. "Go check on Ambrose. I'll see if I can calm her down." She turned back to her sister.

"Kassia…come on, look at me. Look at me." Grabbing Kassia's cheeks in her hands, Rinska forced her sister's face up. Direct black eyes met tormented blue as Kassia returned her awareness to the outside world. "Good, good. Now come one, we're going to stand up…that's it, stand up and walk over to the sofa…that's good Kassia; you're doing great." Rinska kept her voice calm and pitched slightly lower than normal as she guided her carefully onto the seat. "Now, what happened?"

Kassia shuddered and looked down.

"It was him again, wasn't it?" No answer was all the answer she required. "You're not as good at hiding things as you think. Tell me, and maybe that will help."

Kassia toyed with her white lock of hair nervously as she related what she'd sensed. "…and it was so...so vile, so appalling. He took such perverted joy in her death. Such overwhelming rage…every time I sense him, it's like a part of me becomes him. I might as well have been in the room feeding on the poor soul for all that I was sharing in his emotions. They're like a poison to me and my body rejected them…" Her voice faded into nothingness.

Rinska gave her a hard shake, as much to shake the evil creature out of her as to snap her out of her reverie. "This has gone on long enough Kassia. We need to stop this, now. You shouldn't have to deal with this and that person, whoever he is, wherever he is, is going to have to answer to me."

* * *

The creak of the door hinges called Ambrose out of his thoughts and back into the physical world. Undoubtedly it would be Kassia, making sure he hadn't died during the night. In all honesty the nursemaid routine grated on his nerves, which were already stretched thin enough with all the unanswered questions floating about. If only that damned girl hadn't taken off...well, she'd be back eventually. In the meantime he was confined to a bed, without even his chess set, in a house where the people didn't know the first thing about his healing capabilities. He was weak, yes, but he would be fine as long as that no-good, thrice-cursed, temperamental, scheming, dancing, womanizing _vampire_ didn't take it in his head to fight another werewolf!

He was surprised when the door swung open to reveal Darryl instead. The hybrid still had his wings out and the reason for that was apparent with every wet splat that sounded as unidentifiable gobs of something dropped to the floor. "Dare I even guess what that is?" Ambrose asked wryly. At least the boy seemed to have his priorities relatively straight, given his parentage.

Darryl fixed him with a hard stare. "You're not going to die anytime soon, right?"

"I'll endeavor not to," Ambrose replied wryly.

"Much appreciated," came the retort. He was about to duck out the door when Amrobse's voice interrupted him.

"I trust your sister is well?" he asked blandly.

"Kassia will be fine." The door shut firmly, leaving Ambrose to turn the implications over in his mind. _Will be_ fine, rather than _is _fine. That is to say, sufficiently 'not fine' enough to interfere with non-strenuous elements of her daily routine, at a time just after a disturbing psychic communication between his mirror and…something else. Ambrose had a hunch as to what that something else was, but he would need his chess set to be sure. The implications were intriguing. Perhaps one of the children would be so obliging as to provide a…poor invalid…with the means to entertain himself.

* * *

The muscles in Destiny's wings were screaming in pain as she fought her way through the atmosphere back home, but she pressed on regardless. She had not flown so far in many years and was now paying the price, but it was a price she was willing to pay in order to get home quickly. Every instinct in her body screamed that something was terribly, terribly wrong; a mother's instinct, not an angel's. The worry, combined with all the questions provoked by Dracula's sudden disappearance, made her head spin with a maelstrom of indistinct, ephemeral thoughts.

_- where'd he go? So sudden -_

_- WHY? Just when she was going to get -_

_- answers…to many questions and not enough -_

_- explanations…Ambrose _owed_ her, Mr. Holier-than-thou -_

Tendrils of low-lying clouds caressed her face as she ducked down through the cover to check her location. The results took the top edge off her stress level, since by her calculations she would reach her village shortly. A few more minutes at most…not so very long, and yet, too long to bear.

Her landing was for once much less than graceful, as much a product of her haste as her fatigue. However, Destiny was not so travel-worn that she failed to notice a few key details. The cottage looked much as it always did in the morning, white-washed walls blushing pink in the sun's early glow, shutters thrown wide to welcome the day, dew-kissed grass cradling the foundations in an almost protective fashion…were it not for the abandoned sword on the stoop and the ajar front door she would have almost believed things to be going normally. Destiny picked up the sword, felt the heft of it…_Darryl's_…noticed the gobs of some creature's innards decorating the floor of the entryway…_just washed that two days ago_…and closed the door firmly behind her.

"Hello?" she called into the unnatural silence. The result, though delayed by a few seconds, was akin to a cannon being discharged.

"Mother?" Rinska's disbelieving voice echoed down the hall a second before the door to Kassia's bedroom banged open and Destiny found herself enveloped in a vice-like embrace that nearly knocked her over.

"Your timing is impeccable. Kassia needs you," Rinska informed her as she led her mother down the hall. "I've done what I can, but…I'm good at hurting things, not healing them."

Kassia looked small and frail, even in her narrow bed, swathed in blankets and resting in the circle of Darryl's arms. She looked startled and a bit bewildered by her mother's sudden appearance, blinking rapidly as it looking into a bright light. Destiny moved to the edge of the bed and sank onto it, placing cool fingertips on her daughter's temples.

"Let me in, dear one. Let me help." She felt herself sliding into Kassia's psyche, a sensation rather like slipping into very thick, cool water. She saw dark patches of mental pain in there, bruises of the mind that prevented Kassia from regaining her 'balance' after whatever trauma caused them. If she felt like it she could delve deeper and discover the specifics of the act, but her daughter's mental state was too fragile at the moment to sustain such a breach of trust. There were some things better divulged on a verbal level. For now, all she could do was sooth the hurt and heal the bruises; the rest would be up to Kassia, when and if she was ready.

To help the process along, Destiny eased her into a recuperative sleep and withdrew. Her two other children were waiting for her when she opened her eyes, regarding her with thinly veiled anxiety. "She needs rest now, and quiet. We will talk no more of this in front of her until she is ready, but I do want to hear what happened." She eyed Darryl's wings. "Into the sea with you…you're making a terrible mess on my clean floors."

* * *

Ambrose heard the ruckus – how could he not? – and was content to wait quietly in his bed until Destiny came to him. And she would come…their previous altercation had been cut short at a most inopportune moment. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was waiting. At least in this plane, one never had to wait very long for anything…then again, 'long' was subject to your point of reference. Compared to the span of his life, a few minutes were nothing, mere trifles.

His patience was rewarded when the door opened, a smooth, unhurried motion. Yes, he mused, that was the opening of one who had girded herself for battle but was not about to charge recklessly in. She stood calmly in the doorway, allowing the sun to gild her with its light, dignified underneath the windblown hair and slightly dampened dress. Their gazes locked, ice to ice in frozen silence. It was she who shattered it.

"I am glad to see you are well-recovered." She was, he knew, but not for any of the mundane reasons. This was but a polite precursor, the professional nicety of a trained healer and was equal in worth to a sand grain on the shore. "That is fortunate, for there yet remains some unfinished business between you and I, the sort of which I was hoping to settle ere you receive my hospitality for much longer."

Ah, so she would try for that angle would she? But there was much more unfinished business betwixt them than she could dream of, and reparations were due on both sides. Yes, his daughter would soon realize how little of the tip of the iceberg she'd truly seen…


	25. MemoryRoom?

AN: Oh my goodness! Look up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! No....it's an update! And not just any update.....this update already has another (even longer) chapter ready to go after it, if I feel motivated enough to post it soon. Such motivation can be increased by reviews, of course. *wink wink, nudge nudge* ah...... *bribe bribe* In reality, this chapter, the next one, and the one after that are one big scene, but it was more reasonable to break it up into increments of four or five pages so that a) I wouldn't have to delay posting to finish the whole thing even though it's planned out and b) the chapter lengths would be in the range of the ones already posted. These upcoming chapters also have a nice little bonus: answers! I know it's getting terrible confusing, what with chess boards and mirrors and people randomly bleeding all over the place....What does it all meeeeeeean? Well, stay tuned and find out *wink*

* * *

Chapter 24: Memory…Room?

* * *

The silence between the two angels stretched out, a tangible barrier that was fast approaching the label 'awkward', but Destiny was not going to concede her position by speaking again. She had made her opening move in this contest of wills; now it was up to Ambrose to counter it.

A crease appeared between Ambrose's level eyebrows as a contemplative twist distorted the line of his lips. "Unfinished business? Ah, yes, that is quite a lovely euphemism to describe an awkward dinner punctuated by dramatic revelations about your sexual relations with a vampire-" his tone was greatly disapproving "- and culminating in a bloody, near-death experience."

The blunt phrasing was a relief to Destiny; the gloves were off and she didn't have to maintain any polite illusions, an act she really didn't have the patience for right now. "Well, I can see that the past few days of rest and relaxation have done wonders for your temper. Yes, I would call it unfinished business, seeing as we'd agreed to exchange secrets but never really gotten around to it." She tapped a finger against her lips. "Actually, as I divulged information about my mother and lover, that makes the count 0 for 2 with you in debt."

She was much too impudent, in Ambrose's opinion, but will was preferable to reticence. "If you were so eager to expand your knowledge then you should've stayed here. I have been cognizant for some time now."

"I had other business to attend to," Destiny said quietly, "but I'm here now. I'm here _now_ and I want the answers that have been withheld from me for far too long."

So it was that time. Ambrose closed his eyes briefly as he pushed his body into a full sitting position. "Then sit. It will be much easier to show you the truth than to tell you – and who knows? You might even believe me. But know this child: by letting you into my mind, I am trusting you far more than you have shown yourself worthy of. I could care less if you find the truth not to your liking, but," his voice dropped twenty degrees "_do not _abuse that trust." He patted the foot of the bed.

One step forward, and then two, until Destiny stood at the edge of the bed. Still she hesitated to sit, even though the answers to all the questions she'd ever asked herself would probably be answered by doing so. _Pandora was curious too, and look what _that_ did_. But if she didn't…

With a rustle of cloth she sank onto the coverlet and faced Ambrose. Was it just her, or did the light of immortality blaze just a bit brighter within him as he leaned forward to place cool fingers on her temples. _What's done is done_.

There was a sensation in her gut, like she was being squeezed through a small tube navel-first, and everything went black. When her vision cleared, she was in a small stone room with a vaulted ceiling – a room that was perfectly lit despite the lack of windows, candles, or other light source. The glow of light seemed to permeate the very walls – or perhaps the marble _was_ the source of the light. It was all terrible confusing.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around.

"My mind." Ambrose walked into her line of vision, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. "This is where I come to sort through various puzzles, to contemplate mysteries, to center myself and focus my energy. It is a halfway place, neither here nor there but real in every sense of the word." The room was sparsely furnished, with a few paintings decorating the walls, most of the space being occupied by a chair and table facing a mirror, upon which was a chess set.

Destiny regarded that arrangement curiously. There was something very familiar about the way the pieces were arranged, though the chair was intended for the white player. She made a move to reach for the pieces and found her arm frozen in place.

"Be careful what you touch. Some toys are not meant for children."

"I'm hardly a child." Destiny found that she could move her hand away from the board, but not towards it. "And I would appreciate it if you would stop treating me like one."

"You _are_ a child, to me. Perhaps it would be different if you were still mortal, but you're not. You have only begun to live the life you have, a life you don't seem to fully appreciate." Ambrose began to pace, his brows slowly drawing closer together as his agitation increased. "You will not age, you will not ail, you will not die! Some people have sold their souls for such a gift and you seem content to squander it upon the son of the Devil!" He cut off mid-shout, his pale frame shaking from the intensity of his emotion.

Destiny was too surprised by the emotions she sensed in the room to snap at him for his harsh words – for it was not disapproval, as she had been subjected to before. Here in his mind, he couldn't hide the rage, the grief, the regret hiding behind the disapproving front. The emotions danced just under his skin, the light changing him into something utterly alien and frighteningly beautiful. _No wonder the villagers are frightened of me._ She felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a snake, unable, unwilling to look away. The spell was broken when Ambrose passed a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to center himself.

"I…am sorry. I should not have – you just look so much like her." His normally fluid voice was a bit ragged around the edges.

"Her?" Destiny asked softly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a painting appear on the wall, but when she turned to get a better look the subject blurred to an undefined flesh-colored blob.

"No. Not that way." Ambrose beckoned to her as a white door materialized behind him.

"Where does that lead?" She asked as she crossed the room to accept the offered hand.

"My memories. Everything you will see has already happened. It will seem very real, but nothing can affect you. Likewise, nothing can be affected by you, no matter how hard you may try."

"I wouldn't want to affect the past," she assured him, but the reserved expression on his face didn't change. "One never knows exactly what they will or won't do until presented with the opportunity. Come." The door opened and Destiny allowed Ambrose to lead her through, suppressing the nervous fluttering in her stomach.

* * *

_The air was fantastically hot, but the sensation didn't affect her body in the way she felt it would if she was there in real life. Stretching out beneath her was an ocean of sand more vast that she could have ever imagined, the late afternoon sun turning the sand to a fiery orange color under a rich blue sky. _

"What is this place?"

"A great desert on the continent of Africa, called the Sahara. This is where we fought the last great battle against the vampires."

"In full daylight?"

"I have told you, these are not the vampires you are familiar with. They are descended from demons who roamed freely when the earth was young. The strongest of them could walk in sunlight if they feasted upon blood frequently enough."

_A vision of a village street lined with mutilated corpses shivered in to being above the desert, and Destiny had to fight back her reflexive nausea. _

"By the time of this battle, only the strongest were left."

_They fell towards the earth's surface and she saw an odd gray smudge on the sand that rippled and moved, growing larger and larger until she realized it wasn't gray at all but hundreds of specks of black and white violently clashing against each other. Sunlight glinted off of swords and shields made from a strange luminous metal, the clang mingling with the unearthly roar of immortal battle cries. The angelic host was a glorious sight, fluid white bodies shining in the combination of the sun and their own divine light, red splashes of blood making a vibrant contrast to their pales forms. _

_The vampires, by comparison, were smoke and shadow; ebony wings and blood-stained mouths making them look feral and deranged. Ambrose was right; these were not the vampires she knew, who had a "normal" form and a beast form. These vampires were man and beast in one, claws and tails blending seamlessly into flesh and fury. They looked…more like her children, particularly Darryl, than the vampires she knew. _

_The two angels watched the carnage for a few more minutes, watched heavenly swords cleave undead heads from their bodies which erupted into flame, watched ivory fangs rip into alabaster flesh and spray everyone nearby with red mist. _

"Were you here?" _she asked, and then kicked herself for such a stupid question. Of course he was here; it was his memory. _

"I was, and lucky to survive it, young as I was – only about three-hundred years old. We lost many that day, and still spent the better part of the next two-and-a-half centuries hunting down those who escaped."

_The scene blurred and darkened, dissolving into the next scene like sugar into water. The moon hung low and yellow in the sky, a harvest moon whose light spilled down the craggy walls of a massive canyon and illuminated a white figure flying among the rocky pillars and channels. As they drew closer, she could see that it was indeed Ambrose, but one that bore little resemblance to the man floating beside her. He looked dirty and ragged, dangerously thin, a feverish determined gleam lighting his eyes. A couple hundred feet ahead was a vampire, weaving in and out of the stone in a manner that suggested he was trying to get his pursuer to crash into it. _

"He called himself Lothos, and he was the last of the vampires. I'd been tracking him for many years, and finally caught his trail in the vast jungle on the southern part of this continental mass. The chase lasted for eight straight days, when we reached this great canyon."

_The memory Ambrose surged forward, cutting the distance between the two and crashing into Lothos. The two fell onto a rock platform with a terrible scraping sound, as the harsh surface abraded their unprotected skin. Someone's wing crunched – she could tell who's in the tangle of limbs. Her stomach was still queasy after seeing the first battle, so Destiny had to avert her eyes from this new carnage. _

_There was a screech, a metallic swoosh, a cry of pain; a determined yell followed by a sickening squelch and a scream. Finally, there was a terrible roar that choked off wetly…and then…silence. _

_Destiny dared to look up. Memory Ambrose stood amidst a pile of ash. One of his wings hung limply from his back, twisted at an unnatural angle; a purple bruise was spreading over the left half of his face and much of his skin was red, raw, and bleeding; a giant flap of skin hung from his chest and the wound gushed blood with each heaving breath. _

_As she watched, he staggered a few steps away from the ashes and lay down, arranging his mangled wing in a more normal configuration and pressing the flesh back into his chest. Weak healing light flared once beneath his hand before he closed his eyes and passed out. _

"I did not have enough strength left in me to heal myself fully. The pursuit had severely drained my reserves, and all I could do was stop the blood loss. My only option to survive was to shut down completely and wait for my body to heal. As best I can figure, it took seven months or so before I awoke, and once I returned to Heaven I needed another year to regain my full strength. It was worth it – the vampires were no more and humankind was forever safe from their evil."

"But there are vampires now…started by Dracula. Why haven't the angels just killed him and his descendants like you did the first time?"

Ambrose turned to her, his eyes shadowed."Because the Devil got smart."


	26. Mirror Mirror

AN: Well, first of all a shout out to something541. Sorry I killed you with suspense (not really, but I can pretend), and thanks for sticking with me throughout the dry spells. 3 I shall post this next chapter (omg so loooong!) so that hopefully the collective interest or you (the readers) in this humble story shall be piqued once more. I shall of course be delighted by any morsels of feedback (good? bad? confused? anxious for the next installment?), because they are used to power my magic writing machine, which as of late has been running on fumes. Hmmm…maybe that's why my projected story path is getting so much more convoluted…carbon monoxide poisoning. Anyway, enough rambling on my part and enjoy this next chapter in which yet again you receive answers! (omg no waaaaay!)

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Chapter 25: Mirror Mirror

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_The room around them was pearly white marble that was strangely fuzzy and unsubstantial around the edges, as if the difference between the wall and the air was only a passing afterthought by the builder. Towering arches lining the perimeter allowed a panorama view of swirling mist shot through by beams of sunshine. Ambrose was lounging against one of the arches, gazing out at the sky with a pensive look on his face. Occasionally he would rub a hand across his chest and release a bit of healing light. _

_The soft shush of cloth against marble roused him out of his reverie and he turned to see another angel approaching. She was dressed in a simple gown of pale lavender, her hair white-blond rather than pure white, and she was regarding Ambrose with concern. _

"_Are you well Ambrose?" _

_He shrugged slightly. "I am not entirely sure Geshime. I just have this feeling as if something isn't right, but I have not been able to determine the cause. I thought it might be phantom pain from that wound…but it doesn't make sense for it to suddenly appear ten years after the healing finished." He shook his head. "Were you seeking me for something?" _

"_Yes, and perhaps more so now than a few moments ago. When did this pain start?" _

"_A few days ago…" he regarded Geshime with suspicion as her face darkened. _

"_That is troubling news indeed, because it appears that the Devil is attempting a new maliciousness –" _

"_I'm surprised he stayed dormant for this long; his power took a major blow when we exterminated the vampires." _

"_They are no longer extinct, I'm afraid." _

"_What?" _

"_A mortal – one Vladislaus Dragulia by name – made a covenant with the Devil upon his death. Three days ago, as best we can figure, he returned to earth as a vampire." _

_Ambrose felt the blood drain from his face and pool somewhere around his feet, leaving him woozy and weak. "We have to do something now, before he can strengthen! Why haven't we sent anyone out?" _

_Geshime beckoned for him to follow her. "It took time for us to confirm the rumor. It may be that, as the executor of Lothos, you might be better able to sense this new vampire. It appears," she touched his chest gently, "that we were right." _

"_Who else knows?" Ambrose noticed that she was leading him towards one of the gathering halls. _

"_The information is just now starting to spread. It will not be long before we take action. _

"_There is only one course of action to take: extermination." _

_Geshime smiled at his vehemence. "I know that; you know that. That's why we're going on a hunt – Embriel and Mordecai are going to round out the team." _

"Who are those angels?"

"Embriel and Mordecai were heavily involved in the First Wave vampire wars and in tracking down the remaining fugitives. Geshime was not as much of a fighter, but she was very sensitive to their energies, which made her an excellent tracker."

_Two angels were waiting for them in the hall: a female with snaky red locks and gold-tinted wings and a scarred male with tousled brown hair. _

"He could heal the scars if he wanted, but he wears them for remembrance."

_Mordecai offered Ambrose a sword. "Michael wants this taken care of quickly, of course." _

"_Of course. I can imagine he was less than thrilled when he found out." _

_Embriel chuckled as she checked her own weapons. "I think he's gone to perform a few miracles to make himself feel better or something." _

"_He'll feel better once Dragulia is killed. Where are we going?"_

"_Transylvania."_

"_Not again. I hate Transylvania."_

"_I'm sure it hates you too Ambrose," Mordecai shot back wryly. "Let's go." The four of them joined hands and began to radiate light. Their forms began to fade and then, in between one blink and the next, they vanished altogether. The group materialized on the outskirts of a town, too large to pass as a village, but not large enough to properly be labeled as a city._

"Unfortunately, by the time we arrived in Dracula's last known location, he had moved on. We searched tirelessly for him, as each passing day gave him another opportunity to turn an innocent victim into an unholy monster."

_The memory shifted to a shadow-swathed cobblestone street, largely deserted except for the odd whore or ragtag drunk. In contrast, the two luminous beings hugging the walls stood out like a pair of lighthouses on a moonless night at sea. _

"Didn't someone notice you casually strolling along like that? You do stand out."

"We wore illusions, similar to the one I used when I first approached you. The memory shows through it because it was neither something that was true to ourselves nor something I observed without knowing the truth behind it."

_Ambrose split his attention between his physical surroundings and his psychic ones. Geshime had said they were in the right place, but he wasn't so sure. He wasn't getting the psychic twinge that had been present whenever they'd closed in on Dracula – as he was now known – in the past. He looked at the redhead next to him. Embriel wore a look of intense concentration, but underneath that was a hint of doubt._

"_I know Geshime said she was sure Dracula was here, but all I sense is general vampiric activity," she murmured. "If he were here, it should be stronger."_

"_Geshime is a more sensitive tracker than either of us…could it be that we're just missing something?"_

"_She's more sensitive…but not to the extent that we would be picking up such different things."_

_We've caught the trail!__ Mordecai's voice floated through their minds. __Quarry is approximately 2000 yards to the north of your position. _

_Embriel and Ambrose exchanged a glance and headed north through the smoky darkness. They both shared the same thought: as sensitive a tracker as she was, even Geshime had never been quite that precise. Mordecai and Geshime rendezvoused with them in the entrance of a bank. There was a hotel across the street, a modest establishment with a worn stone façade. _

_Embriel regarded the building speculatively. "I sense a vampire nearby, but –" _

"_He's in there." Geshime's eyes were closed as she reached out to whatever presence she'd picked up on. "Moving on the second floor…descending. I think he's coming out." _

"_Are you sure it's him? Because I don't sense him as strongly as I have in the past –"Ambrose hedged. _

"_Ambrose, he is the First Vampire, so far the oldest and most powerful. Who else would I sense so strongly?" She had a point but he still wasn't convinced. _

_While his comrades debated, Mordecai watched the hotel door. It didn't particularly matter to him which vampire it was, as long as they killed it. After a few moments, a creature resembling a veiled woman exited the building – he said "resembled" because even though it wore the clothes of a woman it moved in a more predatory manner, lacked a heartbeat, and most importantly lacked a soul. "There she is."_

_As the other three looked in the indicated direction, Mordecai noted interesting differences in their facial expressions: Embriel was already taking the measure of their opponent, Ambrose appeared to take it as a confirmation of something before turning pensive, and Geshime looked confused and trouble. _

"_That's not Dracula," she began, before Embriel interrupted. _

"_No. She's a relatively young fledgling – old enough to know what she's doing, but no trouble for us yet." _

"_Should be an easy kill," Mordecai commented as he unsheathed his sword. Their weapons were impregnated with holy water, making them more effective than any mortal weapon including silver stakes – after all, you couldn't inflict slashing damage with a stake. _

_Embriel took the lead as they followed the vampire down the alley, out of the sight of passing humans with Mordecai following on her left. The vampire paused halfway down, sniffing the air and turning to face the angelic duo. _

"_You look like a pair of tasty morsels," she hissed, her fangs lengthening and, oddly enough her skin turning bluish-white. _

"_Definitely young," Embriel muttered. "It takes at least five years to lose that tendency to be painfully obvious." _

"_The blue skin is new though." As one they lunged at the vampire, who obligingly met them halfway with a screech. Mordecai used the flat of his sword to pin the creature against the wall, where she struggled like some sort of giant insect until Embriel stuck her through the heart with a holy dagger. The vampire gave an eerie two-toned scream as she crumbled into dust, one that raised the fine hairs on the angels' arms. _

"_Like I said, an easy kill." _

"_One less headache for us, certainly." Embriel blew the ash residue off her dagger. A cry of pain and horror split the night again and they whirled, ready for another attack, but there was none. Instead, they saw flashes of light from the bank entrance._

_Geshime and Ambrose hung back at the entrance to the bank, confident that their teammates could more than handle a lone fledgling. "I don't understand how I could have sensed her so well. She's barely more powerful than a human at this stage." Her voice was soft and distressed. _

"_This might sound odd," Ambrose began, "but have you felt any twinges in your chest in the past few months? They likely lasted a week and then disappeared." _

_His companion looked at him in surprise. "About a month ago, but they passed quickly. It was…" she paused, and dawning comprehension filled her eyes. "Exactly as you experienced with Dracula! That is very – Aaaaaaaah!" Geshime suddenly doubled over with a piercing scream, echoed by another scream from down the alley. _

"_Geshime!" _

_Ambrose helped her to stand and saw with horror that a gaping wound had opened across her breast, pouring hearts blood like a red waterfall. He laid a hand over the wound, desperately trying to heal it, but nothing made a difference. Geshime screamed again, adding her own healing efforts to no avail. Dimly he heard Embriel and Mordecai running towards the bank, but his vision had tunneled in on the dying woman in front of him. A hand crossed into his vision and pressed a wad of cloth to the wound, which was quickly soaked through. He felt her heartbeat slow…slow…and stop. _

_Ambrose was numb. How had this happened? Why had this happened? Someone shook him violently, calling his name, and he looked up into Mordecai's tear-stained face. _

"_We need to go Ambrose. We need to get her home." Still Ambrose couldn't find the energy to fight through his shock. _

"_He's right." Embriel pulled him up, her face carved into tragic lines. "She's not hidden anymore. We need to leave before the mortals see." With Mordecai carrying Geshime's limp form and Embriel supporting Ambrose the angels disappeared, leaving no trace of their presence save for a pool of blood on the stoop. _

_As soon as they returned to Heaven her body faded and dissipated, returning to energy. Silence enveloped them then, blissful, numbing silence broken by Mordecai's sigh. "We need to tell Michael about this latest development." None of them were particularly eager to seek the archangel out at the moment; he was going to be furious and they were too emotionally burned to handle that. _

"_Is this it then? Killing them is going to kill us?" Embriel sank to the floor, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her wings around her body like a living blanket. She laughed. "Save the humans, kill ourselves? How many of us are going to die? A hundred? A thousand? Damn Lucifer! Damn him, damn him, damn him!" _

_Mordecai knelt next to her, wiping first her tears and then his own. "Maybe we can teach the mortals to hunt. Maybe if they kill the vampires, it won't kill us too." _

"_Maybe? Maybe? So you want to run an experiment where if we're wrong, it's fatal? Some poor angel just starts bleeding out and vanishes?" _

"_WHAT IN HEAVEN ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" The resonant bell-like tones originated from the arched entrance, where an angel stood burning so brightly his features were all but indistinguishable. _

"_Michael." Ambrose stepped forward to give their report. He was aware that his blood-stained appearance would be repulsive to the archangel, but that concern was secondary to the need to shield his teammates. "Geshime is dead. We did not kill Dracula, but we did execute a recent fledgling of his. This new type of vampire is different, fatally different, and it is my belief that the Devil found a way to tie each new vampire to the life force of an angel. It is the only explanation I can come up with as to why I have been more sensitive to Dracula's presence and why Geshime was so closely linked to the fledgling we killed…killing her in turn." _

_The light Michael was emitting died as he absorbed the implications of this theory. "Lucifer always was a cunning one. That he should try to corrupt, in a sense, the uncorrupted does not surprise me. This is a heavy matter indeed." _

"It was a heavy matter, completely unlike any we had faced before. No matter what I show you, you will not fully comprehend how terrifying those first months were, every angel scared that they were suddenly going to start bleeding out." _The memory froze, its vividness fading a bit as if a gray veil had been drawn across it. _"There were so many questions that needed answering, and they all needed answering immediately. How many vampires were there? Who were they attached to? How could we kill them without destroying ourselves? So many hard questions. The only easy conclusion we reached was that humans could not be used as executioners in lieu of us."

"But I've seen humans kill vampires!" Destiny protested. "Stake them through the heart, expose them to the sun – they crumble to dust!"

"For a day, yes, or maybe two, but then they start to regenerate. We kept the ashes under observation but the results were the same both times. We had no choice but to finish the kill." His voice was pained, and Destiny wondered who he'd seen die as a result. Had he looked into their eyes as they faded? Destiny realized she didn't want to know; she didn't want to feel that sympathy. It wasn't her war.

"It was a time of terrible division in Heaven. We all agreed that the vampires should be killed before they became too numerous; rather that only some should die rather than all of us. One faction volunteered to die, another faction advocated sacrificing members outside their group….both were wrong in their understanding of the problem. You cannot choose who is sacrificed by arbitrary means…what if we started down that road and realized that all the archangels were tied to a vampire? Would it be worth crippling the power of Heaven to eliminate this wave of foes?" There was pain in his voice, weariness, despair….confusion. For the time she'd known him, he'd always seemed so omniscient, so sure of his purpose….perhaps that was only in comparison to her very limited knowledge and experience.

"What did you do?"

"We stepped back." Shame, now. "We allowed the vampire population to grown in order to save ourselves, and only interfered if a vampire actively tried to tip the scales or cause undue havoc."

"Like Dracula."

"Yes. And in the meantime a team was assembled to research a more permanent solution to the problem, a sustainable way to eliminate them without killing ourselves in the process."

"Did you succeed?"

It would have been easier to read a book written in invisible ink than to decipher the look Ambrose trained upon her. "In a manner of speaking. There is one more memory I can show you, but you might hate me afterwards. Time will tell."

_The scene before them dissolved into swirling mist._

_

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_Next time, on As the Word Turns.....We almost destroy the world! The cosmos are very nearly thrown into chaos! Anarchy ensues! Destruction is kept at bay by a hair! Death restrained by a....Gahdswmhmdgfmg! *is dragged away struggling by miscellaneous characters*

Destiny: My apologies for that. She's been running off of hot chocolate and Double Stuf Oreos for the past two days.

Dracula: Entirely too much sugar, even for that one.

Destiny: I never thought I'd see the day.

Void: There was the Mountain Dew episode....

Destiny/Dracula: We received counseling and have put that behind us. Do not speak of that day.

Kassia: What my parents are trying to say is, we hope you enjoyed this episode of our narrative and keep checking back for the next one. We'll tie our creator to her chair if we have to, or pop into her brain in the middle of the night if we have to, but our efforts in this area are fed by reviews as well. See you next time!


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